Star Traks: Silverado - Season 3
by Lt. Silverado
Summary: Season 3 of ST: Silverado follows the crew of our favorite 'gently-used' ship as they encounter eccentric family members, the equally 'special' crew of the USS Stallion, an army of pint-sized mischief and the mysterious planet of Delorea 2. With Lord Stalart chasing after Sylvia in his oddly adorable quest for revenge, things aboard Silverado will never be the same!
1. Friendship Zero

Author's Note:

While there haven't been many reviews on the first two seasons (only one guy reviewed them so far), I'd still like to thank those that have read through Seasons 1 & 2. Unless all the web hits recorded here have been from search engines and web spiders. In which case...crud. In any event, there have been enough views/visitors that I will continue uploading the remaining Silverado seasons for the time being. Thanks!

**Updated with improved formatting 27 April 2013

Copyright 2007

The following may contain content of a violent, profane or sexual nature. Sort of like real life and the evening news. If your country of origin prevents you from viewing such material, they're probably trying a little too hard to protect you from the world. Still, it's best to follow your local laws. So if they say you can't read this, you better not read it. And they suck for saying so. Otherwise, enjoy the story.

Star Traks: Silverado

3.1 "Friendship Zero,"

"Evasive, Gamma-three!" Captain Christopher Stafford snapped over the comm channel as he tapped at his control panel, sending the Peregrine-class attack fighter he was piloting into a looping spiral, evading several weapons shots as his attackers tried and failed to match the maneuver.  
"Confirmed," acknowledged Lieutenant Command T'Parief. Rather than trying to follow Stafford's wild course T'Parief fired his forward thrusters, dropping his velocity down to a crawl. The attacking fighters flew right past him. Two shots later, Stafford was clear.  
"Silverado to Stafford," Noonan's voice came over the comm, "The station has acquired us with its primary weapon. You must disable it now!"  
Stafford swore as he dived back on course for his attack run. He found the target trench easily and slipped in; opening his impulse throttles to full. T'Parief followed right behind.  
Temporarily free of enemy fighters, Stafford took in the situation.  
Nearly a thousand kilometers away, Silverado was exchanging fire with four gigantic, mile long spacecraft. Dozens of turbolaser blasts shot out, hitting the Federation ship dead on. Fortunately, the shields had been designed with more powerful weapons in mind and easily deflected the attack. But the four Imperial Star Destroyers and their fighter escorts were making it nearly impossible for the relatively tiny ship to escape, and even if a turbolaser shot couldn't match a phaser beam in terms of destructive power, enough impacts from the weak weapons would still wear down the shields. As Stafford watched, a phaser beam tore into one enemy ship, breaking through its shields to leave an angry looking gash in the hull. Turning on another, Silverado fired her pulse-phaser cannon, the rapid-fire phaser beams gouging a dozen craters in the Star Destroyer's ivory skin before the energy cells powering the cannon were depleted.  
"Get out of there!" Stafford ordered, watching as another swarm of TIE fighters dove at his ship. There was no way Noonan could take Silverado to warp with that much hardware in the way.  
"Captain, I am under attack!" T'Parief called out.  
Three TIE fighters had come up behind T'Parief and Stafford, one of them bearing the distinctive bent foils of a TIE-Advanced. Cursing, Stafford tried to dodge; careful not to impact the sides of the trench he had to fly down.  
"Reinforce your aft shields!" Stafford called to T'Parief, stealing a glance at his rear display. The tiny viewscreen showed T'Parief's fighter taking no less than 6 direct hits to his starboard engine. The small fighter lurched, bouncing from one trench wall to the other before exploding in a fierce fireball.  
"I've lost T'Parief!" Stafford cried, shouting into his comm microphone.  
"The Death Star is powering up its main weapon!" Noonan reported back, "Captain, we're trapped! If you don't blow that thing soon, it's going to be too late!"  
"Just a few more minutes!" Stafford hissed. His targeting computer beeped, indicating that the shaft he had to launch a torpedo down was almost in range. There was a high-pitched shriek of alarms as his sensors detected a weapons lock.  
The fighter shook as he took several hits to his aft shields before he managed to duck the target lock. Apparently, the explosion that had killed T'Parief hadn't been big enough to take out the fighters following him.  
"10 seconds until they fire!" Noonan called, his voice in a very uncustomary state of panic.  
"Torpedoes launched!" Stafford called out, slamming his hand down on the fire controls. Two photon micro-torpedoes shot out of the fighter as Stafford pulled away.  
And missed.  
"They're firing!" Noonan cried, "Captain, it's been an honour-"  
The comm channel fizzled out as half a dozen beams of fierce green energy shot out from the rim of the focusing eye of the Death Star's super-laser. The beams met at the center and phased together, forming a massive column of destruction that shot out towards Silverado.  
Stafford could see his ship lurch as Yanick pulled into last-ditch evasive maneuvers, the superlaser blast neatly spearing the open space between the 4 Star Destroyers where Silverado had been trapped, the outer fringe of the beam catching the tiny Federation ship. As the beam faded, Stafford began to hope that his ship had survived.  
Stafford was too far away to see the ripples of energy washing over the hull of his ship, and certainly too far away to hear the screams of his crew. But he was close enough to see the Ambassador-class ship explode in a massive release of energy.

"That f**king SUCKED!" Stafford snarled, jumping out of his simulated cockpit as the holodeck simulation disappeared around him, "That's the 3rd time you've managed to blow yourself up crashing the damned fighter!"  
"I'll remind you," T'Parief said stiffly, "That it is also the 3rd time you have managed to miss the target shaft with your torpedoes,"  
"Well maybe if I still had somebody covering me so I could actually concentrate on the shot I could do a bit better!" Stafford replied.  
The two officers glared at each other for a moment.  
Stafford cracked first. Who could blame him? T'Parief had fangs, after all.  
"I guess this hasn't exactly been a fun evening, has it?" he sighed.  
"It has been entertaining," T'Parief replied, "And it has saved me from an evening of enduring the unending stares of Ensign Yanick's potpourri lizards,"  
"She has potpourri lizards in her quarters?" Stafford asked, "I never noticed,"  
"You will now," T'Parief declared darkly.  
"Sylvia, could you please save the program and shut down the holodeck?" Stafford called out.  
Nothing happened.  
"Computer," Stafford corrected himself, "Save program and exit,"  
The computer beeped in acknowledgement, the cockpits of the two fighters fading into nothingness. The door however, did not open. Stafford walked straight into it, flattening his nose and making a dull 'thud'.  
"Dammit!" he swore, "I'm really NOT in the mood for this!"  
T'Parief tapped at the door panel, overriding computer control and opening the door.  
"Thangs," Stafford said, his voice nasal, "I guess I bedder ged do sickbay. Thangs for running da prograb wid me, have a good night," he rushed down the corridor.  
"Of course," T'Parief said to the empty room, a little surprised at Stafford's hasty retreat. He had planned on asking the Captain to join him and Yanick for an evening drink. Shrugging, he turned and headed for the turbolift.

"And what inane male bonding ritual were you and T'Parief doing that involved you breaking your nose?" Wowryk asked crisply as she ran a dermal regenerator over Stafford's flattened face, "Boxing? Bat'leth fighting? Or a good old-fashioned wrestling match?"  
"None of the above," Stafford said, wincing as his nose was repaired, "I walked into a door. And what do you mean 'male bonding ritual'?"  
"Nothing," Wowryk said innocently, "I just mean that you and T'Parief seem to have gotten closer in the past little while,"  
"Well, seeing as how Jeffery's off in another sector on another starship, I have to find somebody else to hang out with, now don't I! And I think saying we've gotten closer is exaggerating things a bit. We've run a holodeck program. That's it."  
At the mention of Jeffery's name, Wowryk had immediately chilled by about 50 degrees.  
"I'd thank you to not mention that man in my presence again," Wowryk said.  
"What's the big deal?" Stafford asked, "I mean, you were practically dumping him anyway-"  
"I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HIM!" Wowryk snapped. She took a breath and calmed herself, setting the dermal regenerator aside, "I'm sorry, Captain, that was uncalled for,"  
"Um, yeah," Stafford said, gingerly touching his nose, "Thanks for the fix. Um, you might wanna consider talking to Yvonnokoff. Y'know, if you're having…trouble," Stafford trailed off as Wowryk looked coldly at him.  
"So yeah. See you tomorrow!" he walked briskly past Nurse Kerry and out the door.  
"You know," Kerry said, picking up the dermal regenerator Wowryk had used and eyeing the nail marks she'd left in the soft grip, "He may be right,"

"And it's, um, 19:04 hours," Crewman Gibson said, gulping as he sat looking into the holo-camera in Eva Yvonnokoff's small recording studio, "You're watching 'The Vonna Show', your source for all your head-shrinking needs. Heh heh…head. Oh, um, it's gonna be 1905 hours coming up on the beep,"  
Nothing happened.  
"Uh," Gibson swallowed, looking around nervously, "Beep?"  
He said staring at the camera for several seconds.  
"So, uh, yeah. This is Bartholomew Gibson, Vonna's slave, uh, producer. Filling in for Vonna, who's been delayed by a, er, stuck turbolift. Yeah. They're prying her out right now. Aaaanytime now…"  
A few more moments of silence.  
"Uh, so yer totally watching 'The Vonna Show' on the Associated Worlds Network, the best entertainment in the Alpha and Beta quadrants. That's what their commercials say anyway," Gibson swallowed again, "Uh, if that slogan is copyrighted or something, please don't sue me,"  
He looked at the door to the corridor, praying for Vonna to come through and save him from making a total ass of himself.  
"Well, fine," Gibson said, "Let's take a call. Um, one sec," he leaned out of view of the camera, taking a deep pull on a doobie he had hastily dropped on one of the decorative end tables and popping back into view.  
"OK," he said, expelling a plume of smoke, "on Channel 2 we have Adam. Adam, dude. What's up?"  
"I already told you," Adam said, annoyed.  
"Uh, yeah, I know, dude," Gibson said, rolling his eyes, "But now we gotta tell everybody else. So folks, um, Adam here is dating this totally hot Andorian chick and doesn't know whether or not to take things to the next level. I say bang her!"  
"It's not that easy!" Adam protested, "She's an Andorian Pleasure Mistress of the 3rd order!"  
"Sounds good to me," Gibson shrugged, "Shag her rotten,"  
At that moment, Yvonnokoff came rushing into the studio.  
"Get avay from zat camera!" Vonna snapped, "Who knows vhat kind of insane babble is spewing forth from your filth-infested yap? Scoot!"  
Gibson scurried back through the soundproof door and into his control booth, a layer of transparent aluminum separating him from his very annoyed boss.  
"Who do ve haff on ze line and how can I help?" Vonna asked.  
"Uh, this is Adam," Adam said, "And I'm dating an Andorian Pleasure Mistress…"  
Vonna eyes widened.  
"Adam," she said, "You are in great dangers! Do you not know vhat ze Andorians consider to be pleasure?"  
"No," Adam said, "That's why I'm calling!"  
"Vell," Vonna said, "First, zis is not ze 'Xujo Han'zon Show'. Zat expert on interspecies mating habits is on een 2 hourz, here on AWN. Second, if you attempt to mate vith an Andorian woman, she vill tie you to a bed of hot coals, or perhaps a duranium heating coil. Depends on taste. She vill beat you severely before she violates your body in ze most painful and humiliating vay possible,"  
"Uhh, thanks Vonna," Adam said shakily, "I think you just saved my life. Um, tell your producer he's an idiot, OK?"  
Gibson, out of sight, flipped a finger at the camera.  
"Zank you, Adam," Vonna said, glaring at Gibson, "I vill keep zat in mind,"

"Vat a day," Vonna said, walking back to her quarters. The rest of her show had gone smoothly, but her earlier adventure in the turbolift had stressed her out. It shouldn't have been a big deal. Normally she would have been beamed out of the jammed turbolift car, but for some reason the subspace compensators on the transporters were being balky, making any kind of intraship beaming very risky unless the warp engines were shut down. Given the choice of being late for work or having her molecules smeared around the ship like sour cream on a perogie, she had waited for somebody to open the turbolift.  
She stepped into her office, intending to pass through to the rear door that led to her private quarters. She inwardly cursed whoever had designed the counselor's living arrangements for the Ambassador-class when she saw somebody was sitting on her couch, waiting for her.  
"I am zorry," Yvonnokoff said, "But ze office is closed. Come back tomorrow?"  
"I really think I need to talk to somebody now, Dr. Yvonnokoff," Dr. Wowryk said.  
"Oh very vell," Yvonnokoff sighed, ordering a coffee from the replicator as Wowryk started her story.

Two months ago…

Wowryk sat in her office in Sickbay, analyzing the data T'Parief had brought back on the Parians.  
It really wasn't anything all that ground-breaking. The Parians were created using the same genetic engineering T'Parief had been created with, with the addition of growth acceleration. The Transference Ray had changed them from being little more than brainwashed slaves of K'Eleese into intelligent, independent beings. But she'd had months to examine T'Parief's anatomy, not to mention the Parian corpse that had spent a week in her morgue, and the Transference Ray had already been well documented after the many encounters the crews of the Secondprize and the Explorer had had with the device.  
Silverado was due to rendezvous momentarily with the U.S.S. Kindness, the ship that would be escorting K'Eleese's captured vessel, the Jubilent Death (renamed by it's Parian crew 'T'Parief's Claw') to Starbase 45. K'Eleese would also be turned over to Starfleet authorities.  
"Attention all decks," Lieutenant Jall's voice came over the comm, "We may experience some minor computer problems in exactly 5 minutes. Stand by to switch to backups if necessary. What a pain, huh? Jall out,"  
"What's that about?" Wowryk wondered aloud.  
"They're removing Sylvia from the computer core," Nurse Kerry replied, "No big deal, but I guess Jeffery and Jall want to play it safe,"  
"Sylvia's leaving?" Wowryk asked.  
"Yeah," Kerry said, "She's going on temporary assignment for Admiral Tunney. Didn't you know that?"  
"No," Wowryk replied. In truth she'd been very preoccupied by her last conversation with her boyfriend, Lieutenant Commander Jeffery. He (while drunk) had tried to kiss her in public, an action against which she protested very strongly. She'd been so sure that she was right, up until Stafford had strolled into Sickbay and demonstrated that not all men were trying to get into her pants by giving her an innocent, platonic hug.  
Of course, Jeffery really DID want to get into her pants. During their conversation, actually a heated argument that half the crew witnessed, he'd told her not to bother coming back to him until she was ready to at least kiss him.  
Wowryk sighed. As much as she didn't like the idea of a public display of affection, she had to admit that men had their needs. And Jeffery wasn't even asking her to 'help' him with most of them. He just wanted a kiss.  
'Love the sinner, hate the sin.' Her counterpart from the 'Universe of Perfection' (AKA the Bizarroverse, according to Stafford) had introduced her to that concept. And the more she thought about it, the more she really had to wonder why her father had never mentioned such a philosophy. It fit in so well with what the Bible taught her, how she must love her fellow humans and practice forgiveness and kindness.  
Well, she could admit that she was wrong. She, Dr. Noel Wowryk had made a mistake by refusing to give Jeffery what was in the end an innocent little kiss and she was going to make things right.

Walking purposefully down the corridors, Wowryk didn't stop to talk to any of her crewmates. She rode the turbolift from Deck 8 to Deck 3 and turned the corner. Not bothering to buzz, she strode right into Jeffery's quarters.  
"Simon, I'm here," she said, "I know we had a bit of a fight, and I stand by my beliefs. But a kiss is innocent enough, and if that's what you want then I will permit it,"  
No answer.  
"Sylvia, where is Commander Jeffery?" Wowryk asked.  
No answer.  
Right, Sylvia was leaving.  
"Computer, where is Commander Jeffery?"  
"Commander Jeffery is not aboard the Silverado," the flat, toneless voice of the computer replied, so different from Sylvia's warm responses.  
At the sound of her voice, the terminal on Jeffery's desk came to life.  
"Hi, Noel," the recording said, "Ah, um, Ah know Ah probably should have told ye this in person, but, ye know, after out last little, um, talk, Ah can't imagine ye really want to see me that badly. So I'm leaving for a bit. Ah'll be goin' with Sylvia to work for Tunney for a few months. After that, Ah dunno. Um, anyway, Ah want ye to know that Ah really care for ye, and that Ah hope things go well. Bye,"

The present…

"I zee vhere zis ees goink," Vonna said, nodding her head as she tapped away on her padd, "You feel abandoned and rejected. You feel as though you vill never love again, and zat ze vorld could be right again, if only Jeffery vould come back,"  
"Are you kidding?" Wowryk snapped, "If he comes anywhere near me again, he's going to wish he'd never been born!"  
Vonna's eyebrows went up.  
"But vat about forgiveness, and loving the sinner?" she asked.  
"Jeffery doesn't deserve my forgiveness!" Wowryk snapped, "I was right the entire time! He wanted to fulfill his carnal urges with me, and now that he knows I'm not putting out he's off to find some other poor woman to accept his-"  
"Please," Vonna help up a hand, "Spare me ze details. But I zink you may have misinterpreted-"  
"Misinterpret my ass!" Wowryk said, rising, "Simon Jeffery is, as far as I am concerned, dead meat! And so are the rest of the filthy men on this ship!"

Lieutenant San Jall walked though the corridors of Deck 12, his mind wandering. He passed Unbalanced Equations, barely noticing the sound of music playing behind the wood-paneled doors. Walking along the curving corridor he passed by the Officer's Mess, now Le Plateau Argente. Deck 12 may have been the social hub of the ship, but Jall just wasn't in the mood to be social.  
"Heya," Ensign Yanick called, catching up with Jall as he passed a corridor junction, "Whatcha doin?"  
"Nothing," Jall replied.  
"Are ya sure?" Yanick asked, "You've already walked around this deck 3 times,"  
"I'm getting my exercise," Jall said firmly, walking faster.  
"You already passed by the gym," Yanick pointed out, almost having to run to keep up, "The treadmills would really be better for-"  
"Look, just back off, OK?" Jall said, stepping into the turbolift and hitting the 'close' button.  
Yanick stood, stunned, as the doors hissed shut.  
Well. OK then. Obviously Jall was perturbed. That was fair, Yanick concluded. He was the Operations Officer of a starship after all, and there were a lot of expectations of him and demands on his time. If he wanted a little bit of space then that was perfectly OK with her.  
Yanick walked in the direction Jall had come from, around the curving corridor of Deck 12.  
Deck 12 was her favorite part of the ship. When Silverado had been refurbished, many of the recreation facilities on other decks had been moved to Deck 12, turning it into the social center of the ship. Lounges and mess halls for crew and officers, the gym and fitness facilities, arboretum, the holodecks and the ship's library taking up large parts of the deck. Being at the widest point of the saucer section, Deck 12 was the single largest deck on the entire ship and Yanick felt that it was groovy that Starfleet had decided to use if for the benefit of the crew, instead of cramming it full of science labs and engineering things. Sure, there was plenty of other stuff there, but Yanick really didn't care about airlocks and that other boring stuff.  
"Hi Noel," Yanick said as Dr. Wowryk exited a turbolift.  
"Trish," Wowryk nodded curtly.  
"Bad day?" Yanick asked.  
"Miserable," Wowryk confirmed. Yanick followed her into Unbalanced Equations where she grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered a calming cup of tea.  
Taking a quick look around while Wowryk sipped, Yanick noticed Stafford sitting alone in one of the corner booths near the windows.  
"Why don't you go talk to him?" Wowryk asked.  
"I'm pretty sure he wants to be alone right now," Yanick sighed.  
"Uh-huh," Steven butted in, moving behind the bar to mix somebody a drink, "The guy's been moping around in here ever since Jeffery and Sylvia left. He's miserable, and he's taking up an entire corner booth! We could have 6 people sitting there!"  
Without even waiting for a response, Steven grabbed the drinks and walked to one of the tables.  
"Busy night in here," Yanick commented.  
"You're changing the topic," Wowryk said, "Why don't you want to talk to him?"  
"Why do you care?" Yanick shot back.  
"Excuse me for being concerned," Wowryk shot back.  
"He just really hasn't said anything to me in a while," Yanick sighed, "Like I said, it's like he doesn't want to talk to me. So I don't wanna bug him,"  
"Fine, don't," Wowryk said, picking up her tea, "But I will,"

"Come here often?" Wowryk said calmly, slipping into the seat across from Stafford.  
"Oh, hi," Stafford said, sounding about as energetic as a Rigellian slug, "What's up?"  
"Well, I thought you might want somebody to talk to," Wowryk shrugged.  
"Oh," Stafford took another sip of his drink. He put the padd he had been reading down and faced Wowryk, "What do you want to talk about?"  
"I don't know," Wowryk said, "You're the lonely one!"  
"I'm not lonely," Stafford said pointedly, "I blew stuff up on the holodeck with T'Parief, now I'm enjoying a quiet drink,"  
"I'd think you'd be happy to have a woman going out of her way to talk to you," Wowryk said, crossing her arms.  
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Stafford asked coldly.  
Wowryk shrugged.  
"It's no secret that you're a little jealous of the couples on the ship," she said, "And now your partner in crime isn't around either. It's perfectly understandable,"  
"And this is your way of helping?" Stafford asked sarcastically.  
"I just though you might want to talk about it-" Wowryk started.  
"I know what I like and what I enjoy doing," Stafford said, getting up, "And right now I think I'd enjoy finishing this book in the privacy of my quarters!"

"Then Noel just walked away too!" Yanick said, sitting with her arms crossed in Vonna's office as she explained what had happened. It was the next afternoon, and despite getting a good night sleep Yanick still wasn't very happy about her encounter with Wowryk, "Like she wanted me to go away!"  
"Perhaps she vanted some time alone?" Vonna asked, tapping at her padd and glancing at the replicator. She'd ordered a cup of tea nearly half an hour ago and it still hadn't appeared.  
"She went to talk to the Captain," Yanick said.  
"True, but-"  
"And you know what else?" Yanick pushed on, "Jall. He was being rude too!"  
"Perhaps it eez-" Vonna started.  
"You know what it is?" Yanick interrupted, "It's the other Jall. The one from the other universe we found a few months ago,"  
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Vonna said, pulling up her notes on the other universe on her padd, "But ve haff not had any contact vith ze other universe since we closed ze portal,"  
"Well, yeah," Yanick said, "But, you know, Jall like finds this totally perfect version of himself, First Officer of a Sovereign-class starship with a Captain that's totally accepting of his lifestyle. Then he's gotta look at his life here, where he's been demoted, shuffled away and couldn't have an honest talk with the Captain if his life depended on it!"  
"Ve are here to talk about you," Vonna reminded her.  
"Right," Yanick said.  
They sat in silence for a moment.  
"Hey, have you ever gone waterskiing?" Yanick asked, "It's so much fun! The way the water just…"  
Vonna sighed as Yanick took yet another plunge off topic. This was not turning into one of her more productive sessions!

T'Parief sat in his office, wondering just how he managed to get into this conversation.  
"It's not that I don't understand the role of a security officer," Ensign Danny Grant said, seated across from his commanding officer, "It's just that, y'know, in our training simulations there's been all this violence and shooting…"  
"We're in security," T'Parief said flatly, "We hurt people. It's what we do,"  
"I was looking more at the 'Protection' part of the recruiting poster," Grant admitted. While Grant had a fit build, his expression was that of an earnest puppy. His slightly thinning hair didn't help with his overall image either. Grant was, in T'Parief's view, about as intimidating as a newborn kitten.  
Mmm…all that talk of puppies and kittens was making him hungry.  
"And, y'know, how do you know we're supposed to be doing all this freaky training stuff," Grant went on, "I mean, when's the last time the Captain even came through here to see what we were doing?"  
"That is not your concern," T'Parief, "We will train according to my training plan,"  
"I guess," Grant replied, "I'm just not used to this stuff…"  
"I am surprised you made it through the Academy training," T'Parief said, quite honestly.  
"Well yeah, but-"  
"T'Parief to Kreklor," the reptilian officer tapped his comm badge, "Please report to my office immediately,"  
"What are you doing?" Grant asked.  
Kreklor stepped into the cramped office, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorframe, corded muscles fully visible beneath his uniform and a standard glower darkening his Klingon features.  
"Crewman Kreklor will teach you what you need to know," T'Parief said, baring his fangs in satisfaction, "Dismissed!"  
"But-" Grant gasped as Kreklor dropped a meaty hand on his shoulder and pulled him out the door.  
Loading up his calendar on his display, T'Parief realized Ensign Grant had been his last item for the day. Sure, his shift didn't officially end for another hour, but then what was the point in being the boss if you couldn't leave early once in a while? Stafford wouldn't mind. And besides, it would give him a chance to do something for Yanick. Their relationship had been somewhat stagnant recently. Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a small wrapped package. Looking around quickly to be sure nobody was watching, he devoured the contents. Ahhh…he felt better already. Now then, off to Yanick's quarters.  
Ensign Marsden was manning the main desk in the Security office and Ensign Rengs was on bridge duty. Checking to be sure they would contact him if necessary, T'Parief took the turbolift to Deck 4. Walking into Yanick's unlocked quarters he tried to ignore the stares of over a dozen potpourri lizards as he stepped towards the replicator. Trish would be off-duty in less than an hour!

Back from her counseling session, Yanick picked at her console on the bridge. The ship was on course, off to something-something Prime to deliver a shipment of…something. Honestly, she didn't really care that much. But all she really had to do was sit back and keep an eye open for anything that could cause problems.  
She looked back at the command seat. Stafford was in his ready room doing whatever it was he did in there. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Noonan was sitting in his chair, going through some administrative detail or whatever on his padd. Jall was working his console with an intensity that bordered on anger.  
Yanick blew out a breath of frustration. There was NOBODY to talk to. And beyond that, she didn't even really feel like talking.  
15 more minutes until her shift ended. Then she could go down, having a nice hot bath and maybe feel a little better. Not that those had really been helping all that much lately anyway. But it was worth a try at least. Hmm. That funny little button on her console was yellow instead of blue. Was it a fatal systems error? A subspace fiber bundle, ready to shake the ship like a pothole in the road?  
Nope. Just a notification that warp coil #4 in the port nacelle was showing a slight increase in temperature. No doubt by now the same error was being reported on the Ops console, in Main Enginnering, in Auxiliary control and about 15 other places through the ship. No reason for her to worry about it. Or know about it. Or do anything about it. Just another one of the hundreds of glitches and errors that had been cropping up since Sylvia had left.  
10 minutes. Yanick was ready to bite her nails.  
"Hiya Yanick,"  
Yanick started.  
"Huh?" she asked. It was her relief, Ensign Travis Pye.  
"I got here a little early," Pye shrugged, "Hey, did you see that show on Galactic Discovery last night? The one about the-"  
"I gotta go," Yanick mumbled, walking for the turbolift.  
"Uh, OK," Pye shrugged, watching her go.

T'Parief surveyed Yanick's quarters, hoping he had everything right this time. Her tropical fish were in their tank, not on an hors d'oeurve platter. Terran music played in the background and a meal of steak and baked potatoes had been set out on the table. Now he just had to sit back, relax and wait for his loving-  
"What's going on?" Yanick whined, walking through the door and rubbing one hand on her forehead, "What is that racket?"  
"The Offspring," T'Parief said calmly, "I know you don't like Andorian music, so I thought I'd play something more Terran,"  
"Computer, end playback!" Yanick requested, collapsing into her chair.  
T'Parief was quiet, not knowing what to say.  
"Did you have a good day?" he asked. Usually that was a safe question for initiating small talk with Yanick, who loved a good chat.  
"No," Yanick said, sighing, "Let's just eat,"

The rest of the meal was very quiet. If they had been a Klingon couple, T'Parief knew the silence would mean nothing, that the participants were just too focused on their food and drink to bother speaking. And that sexual combat would be close at hand. If they were Andorians, T'Parief would suspect that Yanick was preparing to slide a knife into his side. As it were, he had no idea what it meant for humans and even less idea what it would mean for Yanick, who was normally so cheery.  
"Did you have fun with the Captain the other day?" she asked.  
"We failed to defeat the holodeck scenario," T'Parief grunted.  
"Well, it's good you're spending some time with him," she said quietly.  
T'Parief frowned.  
"The Captain and I have only socialized on a few occasions," he replied.  
"Really?" Yanick asked absently, playing around with her baked potato, transforming it into a mashed potato, "I thought he'd been hanging out with you since Jeffery left,"  
"No," T'Parief said. What did Stafford have to do with anything?  
"I wonder what he's been up to," Yanick wondered, "I've barely seen him for the past month,"  
"Must we talk about the Captain?" T'Parief said, "I would rather talk about you,"  
"I don't feel like talking," Yanick replied, getting up and putting her plate into the matter reclamator.

"Vhy don't you haff a seat?" Yvonnokoff asked T'Parief as he paced, in a very distracting fashion, back and forth in her office.  
"My tail will not fit on your chairs," he replied.  
"Ahh," Vonna started scribbling on her padd, "Do you perheps feel zat your tail sets you apart from ze rest of ze crew? Are you perhaps ashamed zat you are so different?"  
"No," T'Parief grunted. He explained the situation.  
"So Yanick does not feel like speaking?" Yvonnokoff asked, "Vat is ze problem vith zat?"  
"It…is Yanick," T'Parief said.  
"Zat point aside," Vonna shrugged, "she has every right to have her own quiet time,"  
"And what of the obsession with Stafford?"  
"Concern is hardly obsession," Vonna said, frowing as she tapped frantically at her padd, "But it is interesting. Perheps part of an even bigger problem," she tapped on her padd hard for several moments.  
"So what should I do?" T'Parief asked.  
"Hmm?" Vonna asked, looking up, "Oh, you are still here. I sorry. Uh, give her her space for now. I haff other matters I must attend to,"

Lieutenant San Jall watched Yanick leave the bridge and for a moment contemplated following her. But he was still waiting for Ensign Day to arrive and take over Ops.  
"Heya Lieutenant," Pye said, settling into the Conn station and tapping at the controls, "Having a good day?"  
Jall grunted.  
"Oh, I see we're passing close to a Mutara-class nebula," Pye said, tapping and chattering away, "Hope the energy discharges don't interfere with my navigational sensors. Maybe we should tie in the lateral array for redundancy?"  
"Uh-huh," Jall muttered, shooting a look at the forward turbolift, hoping Day was about to pop out.  
"Hey Lieutenant," Day said happily from behind Jall, clapping a hand on his shoulder.  
"YEAWWW!" Jall shouted, starting.  
"Sorry!" Day cried, "Didn't mean to startle you,"  
"I keep forgetting we have two turbolifts," Jall grunted. At least this time his mistake hadn't ended with somebody getting his or her head stuck in a bucket.  
"Really, I didn't mean to-"  
"Forget it," Jall said, surrendering his console and heading up to the turbolift.

"Here you go," Steven said, handing Jall an apple martini as the Ops officer moped at the bar, "Enjoy,"  
"Uh-huh," Jall grunted.  
"Y'know, most bartenders around here would chat things up with you," Steve said conversationally as he set a tray of used glasses into the replicator and hit the 'reclaim' button.  
"Right," Jall muttered.  
"They'd ask about your day, see if everything was all right," Steve continued, "Help you get to the root of your problem, spend some time working through your issues,"  
"Sure,"  
"I'm not a normal bartender!" Steven snapped, slamming a fist down on the bar and jolting Jall out his reverie, "You're dragging down the whole atmosphere of this place and on top of that you're getting on my nerves! Now if you want to be pampered go talk to Yvonnokoff or Patsy Horton. If you want to get good and drunk, talk to me. But if you plan on sitting here wallowing in self-pity then you need to get another plan!"  
Jall blinked.  
"Right," he nodded, more confidently, "right. I'll just go over here now," he picked up his drink and sat at one of the tables near the edge of the room. Looking around he could see Fifebee sitting in her usual seat near the windows. What was strange was that she was sitting with Ensign Puk. Normally Stafford, Wowryk, Yanick or somebody would be with her, talking about something or other. But Jall couldn't see any other senior officers in the lounge.  
He turned back to see Ensign Roal standing near the bar sipping a bright red drink and chatting with Lieutenant Stern. Roal had come aboard at Starbase 45, his clean Alpha-Centarian features and trim build bringing him many glances from the ladies. As Jall watched, Stafford pointed him out to Roal, who raised his glass in Jall's direction, smiled and winked.  
Swallowing, Jall slammed down his glass and left the lounge.

"Hey, San," Lieutenant Stern called, catching up to Jall as he walked through the corridors of Deck 12.  
"Shouldn't you be on the bridge?" Jall asked.  
"It's my day off," Stern shrugged, "Look, I wanted to talk to you about-"  
"David, please," Jall snapped, "I know what you want to ask me about, and I really don't want to talk about it!"  
"But I-"  
"Yeah, I know," Jall cut him off, "You did something…intimate…with your counterpart from the other universe. And you want to talk to me about it. Because you feel like we have something in common that you want to share. And you think setting me up with Roal with help you fell like you're part of the club. But you know, I don't care if you feel liberated, ashamed or happy I just DON'T want to hear it!"  
"I thought you'd understand," Stern said, stopping in his tracks.  
"Y'know what? I do," Jall replied, "But it's the 24th century. People aren't supposed to care if people like you or me are a little different from anybody else. But they do. And if I have to deal with that then so do you,"  
Biting back a building surge of anger, Jall spun away from Stern and stalked into the nearest turbolift.

"Zis is Vonna, velcome to ze Vonna Show," Yvonnokoff said, sitting straight and proper in her chair as she faced the holo-camera, "You know, I have to vonder, vhat can cause people to change? Ees it always a huge, life-changing event, or can it be many small things? Eizer way, I vould like to hear from you," she turned to Gibson, "Bart, who do ve haff on subspace?"  
"We have Samuel," Gibson replied, tapping at his panel, "He's having trouble at work,"  
"Hello, Samuel," Vonna nodded at the camera, "Vhat ees ze problem?"  
A male voice, scrambled by a voice modulator of some kind, came on the line.  
"Yeah. Well," the voice said, "I don't think my Cap, uh, boss respects me,"  
"Haff you done anyzing to cause that?" Vonna asked.  
"Short story?" the voice said, "Oh yeah,"  
"Zen perhaps you should try behaving well, to better earn his respect," Vonna suggested.  
"Er, right," even through the modulator, the voice sounded uneasy, "The last time I did that, it was part of a bet. He got pretty pissed about it"  
"Vhy do you care about his respect zen?" Vonna asked, "I do not zink you cared in ze past,"  
"I, I," the voice paused, "I can't do this,"  
There was a click as the signal cut out.  
"Vell," Vonna sighed, "Let us listen to few commercials from sponsors, jas?"  
Gibson flipped a switch, then pulled his headphones off.  
"You realize," he said, tapping the intercom, "That was Lieutenant Jall, right?"  
"Mr. Gibson," Vonna sighed, "If your vodka-soaked little brain can figure eet out, haff of ze quadrant has likely figured eet out,"  
"My brain is NOT soaked in vodka!" Gibson muttered.

BE-DEEEP!  
Jall looked up from his table, where he had been concentrating hard on his terminal.  
"Who is it?" he asked.  
"Uh, Pizza Delivery?"  
"For the love of…" Jall shook his head, heading to the door. The voice was female. Given the ridiculous statement it was probably Yanick, back to probe and pester and-  
"Counselor Yvonnokoff!" Jall gasped as the door opened, "Uh, what can I do for you?"  
"Let's pick up vere you hung up, shall ve?" Vonna asked, sweeping into Jall's quarters and sitting on the couch, "Vhy do you suddenly care vhat Stafford thinks of you?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about…"  
"Even vithout a voice de-scrambler," Vonna said, "It doezn't take much to realize zat vas you,"  
"I suppose not," Jall admitted.  
"Zen let's talk," Vonna said, patting the couch beside her.  
"Y'know when we were in that parallel universe?" Jall started hesitantly.  
"How could I forget?" Vonna asked, "AWN vas very upset zat I missed my broadcasts zat week,"  
"When I was there, the other Stafford saw something," Jall went on, "He saw, er, Lieutenant Stern and Commander Stern getting, uh, intimidate,"  
"So vhat?" Vonna asked, "Heppens all ze time. Vell, maybe not vith parallel selves, but really. Even in ze 20th century such things vere becoming accepted. Zere vas zis movie about zese two cowboys-"  
"And the other Stafford took it in stride," Jall went on, ignoring her, "It didn't bother him. And he, uh, he thought I was the other Jall. And I guess the other Jall is…like that to. And that Stafford still has a good working relationship with that Jall,"  
"Mr. Jall," Vonna said, "Eef you zink that our Stafford vould discriminate against you-'  
"No, no, no," Jall said, shaking his head, "It's not that. I just," Jall stood and walked towards the window, "It bugs me that the other me has such solid relationships with the people he works with-"  
"And you don't?"  
"It's my own fault," Jall admitted, "I should be a first officer now, even a captain! But I made a stupid mistake,"  
"Jas, Yanick is quite upset zat you von't tell her about it," Yvonnokoff cut in, tapping at her padd, "Oh, sorry. I should not haff told you zat,"  
"Mistakes that the other me didn't make," Jall said bitterly, "I really dug myself in deep here,"  
Vonna rolled her eyes.  
"To borrow a phrase from your kind," she said, annoyed, "'Don't be such a drama queen!' You haff recognized your problem. Now you fix. Take tall steps. No, I mean small steps. Jas. I go now,"  
And Vonna swept back out, still tapping frantically at her padd as Jall crossed his arms, pondering her words.

"Change in the crew?" Lieutenant Sage scratched his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Yvonnokoff's rear in the reflective panel he had installed on the back wall of the Chief Engineer's office while outside the Alpha shift engineering team worked to keep the ship running, "I don't think so. But then, with all the malfunctions we've been having I haven't really checked,"  
"I zee," Vonna said, tapping at her padd, "And do you feel hostility towards you because of ze malfunctions? Perhaps you feel crew is blaming you, jas?"  
Sage shrugged.  
"Not really," he said, "I mean, it's always been part of living on this ship, right?"  
"Jas, but ve have not had problems like zis in some time," Vonna said, "Not since our stopover in the Deneria drydocks,"  
"Really interesting, actually," Sage said, "Turns out that Sylvia had been doing a lot of little things to keep all the systems working together. Now that she's gone everything's out of whack again,"  
"Uh-huh," Vonna waved a hand, not really interested, "And ze Captain? Has he been pressuring you to fix?"  
Sage shrugged again.  
"I guess. Haven't really seen much of him. I'm just doing the best I can until Jeffery gets back," Sage leaned back and spun his chair, "Unless he decides to stay away. In which case this job, and this office, are MINE!"  
By the time he was facing the office again, Vonna had left.

"Status report, Ensign Pye?" Noonan asked calmly, seated as he was in his chair.  
"Uh, Ensign Pye already left sir," Crewman Malac said.  
Noonan started. Indeed, rather than seeing Pye's thinning brown hair he was faced with the shiny bald head of the graveyard shift helmsman. Crewman Malac was very young, his dark skin still smooth as, well, you know what goes here.  
"What time is it?" Noonan asked.  
"04:30 hours, sir," Malac said uneasily. He'd grown accustomed to Noonan's odd hours, but now the First Officer was starting to scare him.  
"I see," Noonan said thoughtfully, "I suppose it is past time I retired,"  
"If you say so, sir," Malac yawned, turning back to his solitaire game.  
Noonan stepped into the turbolift and rode down to his quarters on Deck 3. The corridor was deserted at the late hour. Stepping into his quarters Noonan debated sleeping, but decided he really wasn't in the mood.  
Instead, he powered up his computer terminal and started typing.

BE-DEEP!  
Grunting in annoyance, Noonan looked up.  
"Come," he said.  
"Commander," Counselor Yvonnokoff nodded as she walked in.  
"Counselor," Noonan gave a small smile, "You're up awfully late,"  
"Sir?" Vonna frowned, "Ze time is 12:00 hours. I haff been up for some time,"  
"Really?" Noonan wasn't really surprised, "Well, time does fly when you're having fun, after all,"  
"Are you having fun?" Vonna asked him, tapping at her padd.  
"Is there a problem?" Noonan asked politely.  
"Just keeping an eye on ze well being of ze crew," Vonna said.  
"Good idea," Noonan nodded, "That whole other universe thing is bound to cause some problems,"  
Vonna stopped tapping at her padd.  
"Zat was over two months ago," she said.  
"Really?" this time Noonan was surprised, "That can't be right," he mentally started counting duty shifts, but found that his schedule was so erratic that it wasn't an easy task, "Oh my!" he finally exclaimed, "It has been a while!"  
"Vhat are you vorking on, may I ask?" Vonna asked, gesturing to his terminal.  
"Nothing of importance," Noonan said smoothly, "Just a little project to keep me busy. I suppose I've been too busy to really notice the passage of time,"  
"Has zis happened before?" Vonna asked, once again tapping away, "Losing time during an important project?"  
Noonan's mind whirled. He couldn't tell her the truth; that for beings like him years could pass by like minutes. That would just invite further questions. What would get her out of his quarters the fastest?  
"I was looking at pornography," he said, mentally wincing. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say.  
But it was effective.  
"Oh, I see," Vonna blushed slightly, getting up to leave, "Vell, I suppose you vill be wanting your privacy. Nothing wrong with that. Is healthy! Jas!"  
Noonan sighed. Sure, he got rid of Vonna easily enough, but what was that going to do to his reputation?

Some time afterward, Stafford sat on the bridge, waiting patiently for his shift to end. To anybody that looked, he was engrossed in the latest batch of reports from Starfleet. To anybody who could actually see the padd he was holding, he was reading an interesting fictional story about an ancient underground civilization knows as the D'ni.  
"Sir," Jall said from Ops, "We've got a bit of a variance in the port warp nacelle,"  
"Is it serious?" Stafford asked, not taking his eyes from his padd.  
"Well no, but-"  
"Let engineering handle it," Stafford cut Jall off with a wave of his hand.  
Biting his tongue, Jall waiting until his console indicated that somebody in engineering was taking care of the problem.  
Yanick sat next to him, saying nothing.  
Bout time too actually, Stafford mused.. Everybody was going about their duties in a calm, respectful way. There was no giggling, no shouting, no arguments taking place.  
"Captain," T'Parief rumbled, "The ventral phaser array on the engineering hull has just gone offline,"  
Too bad stuff was breaking worse than ever.  
"Get a crew on it," Stafford said.  
"All our engineering crews are busy,"  
"Then get a security team on it," Stafford said impatiently, rising from his chair, "T'Parief, you have the conn. I'll be in my ready room,"  
"Aye," T'Parief replied.

"What's his problem?" Jall grumbled after Stafford had left.  
"The Captain's mood does not seem to have changed," Fifebee pointed out from her console at the back of the bridge.  
"Has he actually talked to any of you other than to give orders lately?" Yanick piped up suddenly from helm.  
Nobody said anything.  
"That's what I thought," she muttered.

Stafford enjoyed a leisurely yet productive afternoon in his ready room. He managed to finish the book he was reading before admitting that it really was time to get some work done. Accessing the communications logs he started reading through Starfleet's reports on recent events. Some ship named 'Explorer' kept popping up over and over again, some kind of major search effort seemed to be underway Or had been underway. Some of the reports had been delayed due to the distances involved. Stafford tried to recall if he'd ever met anybody on that ship, but couldn't remember anybody specific. Probably just his imagination. He was probably thinking of the Endeavor or the Exeter.  
As he finished drawing up the mission plan for their upcoming visit to Drenus Prime he realized it was time for his shift to end. He stepped out of his ready room and onto the bridge just as the relief crew was arriving. Nodding at Lieutenant Quintaine, he stepped into the turbolift, squishing in between Yanick and Jall.  
"Deck 3," Stafford said,  
"Deck 4," Yanick added.  
"Deck 12," sighed Jall.  
The lift moved briefly, stopping at Deck 3. Stafford departed.  
"Bye," Jall muttered towards Stafford's retreating back.

"Computer, lights to one-half," Stafford said as he entered his quarters, "play something…cheerful," music began to play as the lights dimmed, "Hmmm, a good book, or work on that model?" Stafford's gaze alternated between the replicator and the small Constitution-class ship model he was working on. He decided instead to go through an info-pack Starfleet Academy had sent out instead. Something about continuing education.  
Be-DEEP!  
"Come in," Stafford called.  
Yvonnokoff stepped into his quarters, looking around and making some notes on her padd.  
"Ahh," Stafford dropped his info-pack, "It's my turn, huh?"  
"I beg pardon?"  
"I heard somebody talking about how you were making your rounds," Stafford said, "Checking up on people. Great initiative, by the way. So what brings you here? I'm doing just fine,"  
"Er, jas," Vonna shifter her weight, "Captain, haff you noticed a distinct change in crew moral lately?"  
Stafford shrugged.  
"Not really. The crew seems fine,"  
"Not ze crew. Ze senior staff,"  
"They're doing their jobs fine," Stafford said, "They've been quieter and more professional than I can ever recall seeing them. So, what's the deal. Are you going to ask about my problems? Try to figure out what's making me tick? I assure you, I'm fine,"  
"Captain," Vonna swallowed, "I am not here to talk about your problems. You ARE ze problem!"  
"What?" Stafford rose to his feet, "I didn't do anything!"  
"Exactly!" Vonna said, shaking her padd at him, "You are ze leader here, no? Is it not your duty to look out for ze well-being of your crew?"  
"Isn't Noonan in charge of personnel matters?" Stafford asked, "I'm pretty sure that's in the First Officer's job description,"  
"He is to handle ze rest of ze crew. But you still must maintain good relationships vith your senior staff! And right now, you ignore zem outside of ze bridge!"  
"I didn't think they really cared," Stafford mused, "They've got their lives, I have mine."  
"And since Jeffery left yours has been more lonely?" Vonna asked, tapping at her padd.  
"I thought this wasn't about my problems," Stafford shot back.  
"Vell, your friendship problems might explain why you suddenly do not vish to spend time vith your staff,"  
"They think I don't want to spend time with them?" Stafford frowned, "Well, I guess I don't. I'm just as happy to be on my own," he sat back down, "You know, I had a very similar conversation with Sylvia right before she left. I guess with her gone, these things just sort of slipped my mind. But you know, I've come to grips with my problems now. There's nothing wrong with me!"  
"I don't believe zat," Vonna said, "I zink is different. But I have way to find out!"

"So," Yvonnokoff said, looking around the conference room, "I take it ve all know vhy ve're here?"  
Yanick, Wowryk, Jall, T'Parief and Noonan all exchanged glances.  
"No," they said.  
Vonna looked pained.  
"Ve are here," she said, "Because you are all having some problems vith your interpersonal relationships zat ve all vant to resolve," she looked around at the gathered officers, "Who vants to start?"  
Silence.  
"I'll start," Wowryk said, getting to her feet and turning to Stafford, "Just because your little friend is gone is no reason to be hiding from the rest of us. You don't have to pretend everything's fine, we know you're upset about it,"  
"I'm not hiding!" Stafford shot back, "I'm not upset about anything! People come, people go!"  
"Then what have you been doing in your quarters all by yourself?" Yanick asked.  
"Probably 'personal stuff'," Jall grunted, making an obscene up-and-down hand gesture.  
Stafford rolled his eyes at Jall.  
"Building ship models, reading," he shrugged, "y'know, stuff. Not that my private life is really much business of yours,"  
"Oh, of course not," Wowryk exclaimed, "Why would we care?"  
"Why would you care?" Stafford looked a little confused, "You hate all of us, don't you?"  
Wowryk looked taken aback.  
"I don't hate any of you," she said, "I just don't approve of you,"  
"What about Mr. Jeffery?" Noonan asked.  
"He can rot!" Wowryk snapped.  
"Zank you, Doctor," Vonna said, "See? Ve start. Who else vould like to speak?"  
"I will speak," T'Parief said, climbing to his feet, "Commander Noonan-"  
"Let's forget ranks for a bit, hmmm?" Vonna suggested.  
"Er, Matthew," T'Parief corrected, "I have noticed that it has been very hard to get your attention on the bridge, to the point where I've become concerned that you are not well,"  
"Yeah, I've kinda noticed that too," Jall said, "You've been zoning out for hours!"  
"Have I?" Noonan sighed, "I suppose I've been having some trouble keeping track of time, but it's typical among my people-"  
"We're not your people!" Yanick snapped, ignoring the look of shock on Noonan's face, "But I still need you," she included Stafford in her glare, "BOTH of you, to PAY ATTENTION TO ME on the bridge when I have a problem!"  
"We haven't been?" Stafford asked, "I was wondering why you've been so quiet!"  
"I don't want to talk about it," Yanick said.  
"See?" Stafford exclaimed, "that's exactly what I mean! How are we supposed to know something's wrong if you're not going to tell us about it!"  
"I've just been so sad!" Yanick wailed, all semblance of calm gone, "I was so happy before, then the beam stopped and it all went away! And you!" she pointed at Stafford, "You've been ignoring me! And you!" she pointed at T'Parief, "Have just been pretending everything's normal, like I'm still the way I was and you're still the way you were, but everything's different now!"  
"Beam?" Stafford asked, "What beam?"  
"Happy beam?" Noonan speculated.  
"I am different?" T'Parief asked.  
"You are ze founder of a new race now, so to speak," Vonna mused, "I can see how zat can be different-"  
"I have not changed," T'Parief said firmly.  
"You're not listening to me again!" Yanick complained.  
"For crying out loud, stop whining!" Jall snapped, "We get it, you're lonely. But reminding us over and over again won't help us!"  
"Hey, that's not really fair," Stafford cut in, "The whole problem was that she wasn't telling us that in the first place!"  
"Oh, you're a really good one to tell us about fairness!" Jall shot back, "Like you're ever fair with me!"  
"What?" Stafford asked, "It's not like I've treated you any worse than you've treated me!"  
"You just think that because I don't sleep with every woman I meet there's something wrong me! I've heard your snide little remarks any time my romantic life comes up!" Jall declared, "But now I know that in a perfect universe that kind of thing wouldn't matter to you!"  
"I find it rather admirable, actually," Wowryk cut in, "At least you treat women with some respect. One day you'll marry a nice girl and live in harmony under God,"  
"Or have a really good time living in sin with her," Stafford chuckled.  
"News flash lady," Jall growled shaking a finger and shooting Stafford a dark look, "Are you listening to this? Good, cuz I'm only saying it once: One day I'm gonna marry a nice GUY and live sinfully ever after!"  
Wowryk's jaw dropped. Stafford's eyebrows rose and T'Parief sat down. Hard.  
"Really?" Stafford asked after a minute, "Wow. Um. Wow. I never would have guessed,"  
"Great investigative reporting there," Jall said, "So there you go. Deal with it,"  
"Not that there's anything wrong with that in this day and age," Stafford said, swallowing again, "I mean, we all still respect you as much as we did before..."  
"Which isn't much," T'Parief added, recovering from his surprise.  
"I just can't believe…" Stafford swallowed again, "I mean you actually…actually…ewww…"  
Everybody stopped as the doors hissed open and Lieutenant Fifebee entered the room.  
"I'm sorry all, but your squabbling, interesting though it is, is becoming disruptive to the bridge crew," she said, "I must ask that you refrain from further shouting,"  
"I knew I forgot somebody," Vonna fumed, "Pull up a chair,"  
"Could you explain what-"  
"Group therapy," Stafford grunted  
"As a hologram," Fifebee started, "I do not-"  
"Lieutenant, sit down," Stafford sighed, "We need every level head we can get,"  
"That is NOT approved by the Bible," Wowryk finally said to Jall.  
"What, and stoning people to death is?" Jall shot back.  
"This is just asking for trouble," Stafford moaned.  
"We've already GOT trouble!" Yanick said, crossing her arms.

Shortly afterward...

"Yes, I have noticed the change in the command crew recently," Fifebee said to Vonna, "I assumed it was a biological thing,"  
"See, there she goes again," Stafford said, "Looking down on us living things because we're lowly and diseased!"  
"Commander Noonan is not diseased," Fifebee pointed out.  
"Hmm?" Noonan came out of his reverie.  
"No ranks!" Vonna reminded them.  
"Noonan, really," Stafford asked, "what's bugging you?"  
"I've...made some bad choices in my life," Noonan admitted.  
"Is this about that girl you met? Chelsey?"  
"Kelsey,"  
"She's like the, um, daughter I never head," Noonan said softly, "There is much I wanted to do in this life, and it seemed like I would never have time for it all. Now I have all the time I'll ever need, but I've lost that which matters most about life,"  
"We need you here," Fifebee said, "Chris cannot administer this ship on his own,"  
"Yeah, somebody's gotta tell him what to do and what regulations he has to follow," Jall smirked.  
"Hey!" Stafford frowned, "I'm pretty sure I resent that!" He turned to Noonan, "I resent that, right?"  
"Yes," Noonan advised him, "you resent that all right,"  
"See? I told you so!"

Some more time later...

"I don't have any kind of problem with you," Stafford said to T'Parief, "I like you just fine!"  
"Then why do you never give feedback on my work?" T'Parief asked, "Our adventure on the holodeck was the only time you actually told me what you thought of my performance,"  
"Your performance is great," Stafford shrugged, "I didn't really think you wanted praise,"  
"Why not?"  
"Uh," Stafford squirmed, "You just didn't seem to...need...it..."  
"I still have feelings, Capt, um, Chris," T'Parief said, "And part of that is a need to know that my work is appreciated. Please understand that, and quickly. Because if somebody," he shot a dirty look at Yvonnokoff, "continues to make me talk about my feelings, I will vomit!"  
"It is appreciated," Stafford said firmly, "I've got one of the most unique security teams in the fleet! Nobody else has a Hazardous Team...not even the Enterprise!"  
"Not sure we want to brag about that one," Jall muttered.

Even more time later...

"Why did you agree to this anyway?" Wowryk asked, "It seems to me that you don't really want to be here,"  
"I resent that!" Stafford shot back, "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here!"  
"Starfleet obviously wouldn't let you leave!"  
"Hold on, I'm confused," Yanick cut in, "Do you mean here as in this room, or here as in this ship?"  
"The ship!" Wowryk exclaimed, "None of us wanted to be here but we're stuck with it. You just managed to get the highest rank!"  
"Listen here!" Stafford snapped, "I may not have wanted this command to begin with, but we've put a hell of a lot of work into this ship and we've been through two years worth of missions together! I LIKE this ship, I LIKE this crew and I'm not going anywhere!"  
There was silence around the table.  
"Uh, I like it here, too," Yanick said, rising a hand.  
"I really enjoyed the battle against the Matrians," T'Parief added.  
"Perhaps," Vonna said, "You are projecting Jeffery's decision to leave into a general dislike of ze-"  
"Will you STOP bringing that UP?" Wowryk snapped.  
"It doesn't matter, Vonna," Stafford said, "The important thing is that we've realized that there's a problem-"  
"And it's mostly your fault," Jall cut in.  
"And that we all want to work to fix it," Stafford continued, "And if you really want to earn respect, interrupting me isn't going to help!"  
"No," Jall agreed, "But what's the good of having respect if your life is too dull for you to enjoy it?"

Captain's Personal Log  
"Well, that sucked. Here I thought everything was going along great, but it turned out my senior staff was unhappy as hell and I wasn't doing anything about. Even more disturbing, Noonan wasn't doing anything about it. I guess I'd gotten too used to him taking care of all these little details for me, but now he's dropped the ball just as badly as I have. I guess nobody's perfect, but still! The guys a...a. Whatever he is, I kinda thought his species didn't have problems like this."  
"I really doubt that most of these problems are going to fix themselves quickly. Dr. Wowryk for example is still upset. Yanick is still moody. Hell, everybody is still cranky and morale is down. Which I really should have seen sooner. But at least now we have a start at turning things around.

Stafford sat in his command chair, drumming his fingers in irritation.  
"Did she tell you about this?" he asked Noonan.  
"Not a word," Noonan replied.  
"I shouldn't really be surprised, should I?" Stafford sighed.  
"No,"  
The bridge crew was watching as, on the main viewer, Dr. Vonna spoke into her holo-cam.  
"And so it eez my pleasure to bring to you zis very special edition of 'Ze Vonna Show'," Vonna was saying, "in which we take a close, personal look at 6 friendz as zey enter zeir mid-life crisis's"  
"I am SO not old enough to have a mid-life crisis!" Yanick objected.  
"We're all about 30 years short of mid-life," Stafford agreed.  
"This is humiliating," T'Parief declared.  
"We could 'accidentally' lose power to the subspace transceiver array," Jall suggested.  
"Naw," Stafford said, "As long as she keeps us anonymous, let her have her fun. She's earned it. I guess."  
"I theorize zat part of ze reason why Subject A, ze leadership role in zis case, chose to isolate himself eez because he suffers from fears of social and sexual inadequacies-" Vonna was saying.  
"Screw that!" Stafford growled

End

Next: So what are Jeffey and Sylvia up to? Are they offering their expertise and wisdom to others in a calm, courteous manner? Hah! Not likely. But follow these two as they meet up with yet another…unique…crew in Silverado 3.2: 'Lady in Grey'.


	2. Lady in Grey

Star Traks: Silverado

3.2 "Lady in Grey"

"My port plasma vent is still itching,"  
"Then scratch it!"  
"Perhaps you would like to try scratching something when you don't have any arms!"  
Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffery rubbed his forehead with one hand as he sat at the pilot station of the runabout Niagra.  
"How can ye have an itch when ye don't have any nerve endings, Sylvia?" he asked, "For that matter, how can ye know it's an itch? Ye don't have a real body, for all ye know it could be a tickle. Or a throbbing pain!"  
"There's a charming thought!" Sylvia shot back, "I don't know how I know it, but I know it's an itch. And I don't see the difference between nerve endings connected to a brain and sensor nodes connected to a computer!"  
"And ye just happen to have both," Jeffery sighed. In the back of the runabout sat a fairly large grey duranium box. The box was well armored and included a self-contained power supply. It also contained the bio-neural gel-packs and circuitry that contained the core of Sylvia's consciousness. She could have spend the voyage strapped to one of the seats in the cockpit and speaking through a small interface unit Jeffery had rigged, but she'd complained that she felt far too cut off. So he'd plugged her into the runabout's computer. The runabout was tiny compared to Silverado, but once Sylvia had taken over the computer's personality functions she at least gained a body, so to speak.  
"Ah can understand how it might be tough for ye to get used to a whole new body," Jeffery commented. He'd been stuck in Dr. Wowryk's body for several weeks, following the incident in Matrian space.  
"Yes, you would," Sylvia agreed, "Fortunately, starships don't have such an attachment to their genders,"  
"Hey!" Jeffery objected, "If you actually had a gender I bet you'd get far more attached to it!"  
"I do have a gender," Sylvia replied, "It's just more in my head,"  
"Yer head," Jeffery said flatly, "Is sitting in a box in the aft cabin,"  
"Details," Sylvia huffed.  
"Anyway," Jeffery said, tapping the console, "We're going to rendezvouz with our first assignment in half an hour, so ye'll have a chance to get out and stretch yer…um…"  
"Nacelles?" Sylvia offered.  
"Legs," Jeffery rolled his eyes.

USS Elfman

"Sir!" snapped the young cadet that had escorted Jeffery from the shuttlebay to the bridge, "The Systems Integrations Specialist has arrived, SIR! Awaiting your commands, SIR!"  
"I still haven't found his volume control," an attractive, blond woman smiled at Jeffery as she ushered the cadet away, "I'm Captain Hammols,"  
"Lieutenant Comander Jeffery," Jeffery said, accepting the handshake. He started walking around the circular bridge, "Ship looks like she's in good shape,"  
"Oh, the Elfman's been around," Hammols sighed, "They found her derelict in the Gamma Peroxide system 15 years ago. Some kind of sporyte virus killed off the crew. They decontaminated her and left her in the salvage yard-"  
"Till Operation Salvage came along," Jeffery finished.  
"Right,"  
"Well," Jeffery said, "Ah need to get me assistant out of the runabout, then we can start taking a look at what's going on,"  
"Your assistant?" Hammols asked, "We only picked up your life-signs,"  
"Er, yeah," Jeffery said, "She's a, um, sentient computer,"  
"Really!" Hammols grabbed him by the arm, "This I gotta see! Uh, I mean, let me escort you to the shuttlebay, this class of ship is easy to get lost on,"  
"Uh, OK,"

"It wasn't very nice of you to leave me all alone down here, Simon," Sylvia's voice rang out of the runabouts external speakers.  
"Wow, expression of emotion," Hammols said.  
"Of course I express emotion," Sylvia replied, "I'm not a Vulcan you know!"  
"Careful," Jeffery advised quietly, "She's a bit touchy,"  
"Nothing wrong with touchy," Hammols breathed in his ear, giving his arm a squeeze before stepping into the runabout.  
Gulping, Jeffery followed.  
Leading her to the aft compartment, Jeffery pointed out Sylvia's box.  
"Her personality is embedded in a few select circuits," he explained, "We just interface her with another computer and she can link right with the ship,"  
"Security risk?" Hammols asked.  
"He used to think so," Sylvia interrupted, "But over time, Simon here has realized just what an asset I am. Why, I've helped with repairs, counseled the crew. I even got them out of a rather sticky bind by interrupting a married couple's marital coitus,"  
"Anyway," Jeffery cut in quickly, disconnecting the data cable connecting Sylvia to the runabout, "Let's just unhook her and take her to your core,"  
Then all hell broke loose.

Jeffery and Hammols were thrown to the deck as the runabout jerked, her port thrusters firing and sending the small ship in to a crooked slide. They were tossed against the wall as the runabout impacted the shuttlebay wall. The lights were flickering and Jeffery barely staggered to his feet when the replicator in the wall came to life, sending an entire pumpkin pie (with whipped cream) crashing onto Hamnols. Staggering towards the cockpit he became aware of alarms blaring. The consoles were flickering as runabout functions activated and deactivated at random.  
"What's going on?" Hammols demanded.  
"Ah dunno!" Jeffery gasped, "Everything's going haywire!"  
There was a high-pitched whine as a phaser beam lanced out of the runabouts array, slicing into the bay doors of the Elfman and opening the bay to space.  
"Hammols to Parker!" Hammols snapped, "Get a damage control team to shuttlebay one!"  
Jeffery had shut down and rebooted the runabouts computer. As he did so, the chaos subsided.  
"Well," he wheezed, "that was a bad idea,"

The Elfman glided through space, the sunlight of a nearby red giant giving her hull plates a hellish cast. A Constellation-class ship, the Elfman was one of the very few starship classes that had more than two warp nacelles. She had 4 in fact. Other than that the ship was pretty unremarkable, slightly larger than a Miranda-class vessel. The Constellation was definitely an old design, but somebody at Operation Salvage had apparently decided to try stuffing the spaceframe with new technologies to see what would happen.  
"It was my fault," Jeffery admitted to Hammols and her first officer, a dark-skinned man by the name of Sumtar, "I unhooked Sylvia without giving her time to disconnect herself,"  
"When we took her out of Silverado," Jeffery went on, getting Sylvia's box secured to the Elfman's computer core, "It took her hours to withdrawn from the ship. Ah didn't think she'd integrated that deeply with the runabout,"  
"Why would a computer personality profile require such intricate access?" Commander Sumtar asked suspiciously.  
"She's not just a personality!" Jeffery said, "She's a sentient being! And the ship is her body. Plus, y'know, she does a lot of data processing. She's half the reason why Silverado's running pretty well while you guys can't even get past Warp 4,"  
"It's why they're here," Hammol said to her officer, shrugging.  
"Ah looked at yer engineer's data," Jeffery said, "It looks like she's done everything right,"  
"Course she has," Sumtar said dryly, "Vulcans don't make mistakes,"  
"So Ah dunno what's wrong with yer warp drive," Jeffery went on, "Maybe Sylvia can find something,"  
There was a soft 'snick' as he connected the box to the core. Lights flickered wildly on the core displays as Sylvia connected to the core.  
"Oh my," she exclaimed, "Your computer personality is even more boring than the one on the runabout!"  
"Sylvia," Jeffery wanred.  
"He's really no fun at all,"  
"He?" Sumtar asked, "It always sounded like a she to me,"  
"Well, you didn't give him much of a choice when you programmed the voice now, did you?" Sylvia accused, "Really some people have no concept of AI rights,  
"The warp drive?" Jeffery reminded her.  
"Oh, yes," Sylvia was quiet for a moment, "Hmm. You've increased the diameter of the magnetic fields in the plasma conduits,"  
"Well yeah," Hammols nodded, "The new core puts out a lot more high-energy plasma than the old one,"  
"But this is still the original plasma conduit layout," Sylvia continued.  
"Uh-huh,"  
"Well, that's no good!" Sylvia exclaimed, "Look at these junctions!" A display of the Elfman's warp propulsion system appeared on the nearest screen. Two points were highlighted, near the junctions of the two pairs of warp nacelles, "No matter how much you increase the magnetic field size, the plasma is still going to bottleneck at these junctions-"  
"And limit our warp capability!" That's it!" Hammols exclaimed, "We just need to make some changes to physical layout of the conduits! Sylvia, that's perfect! Thank you!"  
"My pleasure," Sylvia responded.  
"Well, I guess we'll be going to our next assignment," Jeffery said, looking at Hammols.  
"Pity," she said, giving him a sly smile.  
"Y'know," Sylvia said, "It's going to take me more than an hour to unhook myself here. Why don't you kids go have some fun?"  
"Uh," Jeffery swallowed, "That is-"  
"Excellent idea," Hammols said, grabbing Jeffery by the arm.

"And the Dream Machine scrambled the gel-pack, which had already been pretty scrambled to begin with, and POOF! Next thing ya know, Sylvia's nagging me about keeping the plasma conduits clean," Jeffery finished, downing the last of his synthale. He was seated with Captain Hammols in Neverland, the Elfman's lounge. The room was bigger than Unbalanced Equations as the Elfman had only one lounge for the entire crew, where bigger ships like Silverado often had separate facilities. Still, Jeffery liked the mixed atmosphere, although he missed the comfy seats looking out the windows. He couldn't even see the windows from where he and Hammols were sitting.  
"That's fascinating," Hammols smiled, "But I was hoping to find out a little more about you,"  
Jeffery froze. He knew damned well Hammols wanted to know about him, but he'd been trying to keep her off topic.  
"Ah'm Scottish?" he said weakly.  
"Really," Hammols voice turned dry, "I never would have guessed,"  
"Ah, why don't you tell me about yourself?" Jeffery asked.  
"Mmmm," Hammols smile returned as she leaned over the table, "you know just how to treat a lady, don't you?"  
"I guess," Jeffery muttered, "Uh. Where did you grow up?"  
"Slivan to Hammols," cut in a cold voice.  
Sighing, Hammols tapped her comm-badge, "Yes?"  
"Your assistance is required on the bridge," replied the voice, "Also, please advise Mr. Jeffery that Admiral Tunney has revised his travel plans. He is expected aboard the Stallion at 10:00 hours tomorrow,"  
"On my way," Hammols grimaced, "Hammols out,"  
She stood, shaking her head.  
"Vulcans," she muttered, "Too efficient for their own good. She must have reported to Tunney that you'd already figured out the problem with our warp drive," she took his hand, "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Simon, but I'm afraid you're going to be hard pressed to make your next stop on time,"  
"Ah'll manage," Jeffery gulped.

"So how was your date?" Sylvia asked through the runabout speakers the instant Jeffery climbed aboard, her image appearing on the small monitor next to the pilot seat.  
"It wasn't a date," Jeffery replied automatically, "It was just a professional, casual drink,"  
"Professional and casual are usually mutually exclusive,"  
"Now she wants to be logical," Jeffery sighed.  
"You love me and you know it," Sylvia laughed.  
"So ye got yerself fully extracted from the Elfman's computers?" Jeffery asked, "We're not gonna cripple the ship or anything?"  
"Oh, I was out of their computer systems 3.43 seconds after diagnosing the problem," Sylvia replied, "I didn't entwine myself as deeply with their systems,"  
"Then why…" Jeffery trailed off, "Sylvia, are ye trying to play matchmaker here?"  
"Not really," Sylvia replied, "I mean, you're not likely to see her again, so what's the point. Still, it was good practice, don't you think?"  
"Practice?" Jeffery exclaimed.  
"Practice makes perfect," Sylvia replied primly, "And given your track record with dating, you need all the practice you can get!"  
"There's nothing wrong with me dating!" Jeffery shouted, drawing a funny look from a crewman in the Elfman's shuttlebay. Jeffery tapped the button to close the hatch, "Is there?"  
"Let us review," Sylvia's face vanished from the screen as a bulleted list appeared, "For your first date with Dr. Wowryk, you horrified her by trying to wear a tuxedo to a movie,"  
"Ah read that in a book," Jeffery grumbled.  
"Then you got her drunk enough that she broke her arm," Sylvia went on.  
"I served my time for that!"  
"You both landed in therapy, which ended with you adopting an alien baby which you have now left in Dr. Wowryk's sole care,"  
"Ah actually miss that little guy," Jeffery mused.  
"Your date with the plasma conduit specialist of Denria Dry Docks ended with you hiding under the table," Sylvia reminded him.  
"She fed me at least,"  
"I would think this evidence would convince you that you need help," Sylvia's face reappeared on the display, "And the fact that you are here in the runabout rather than engaging in primitive yet fascinating mating rituals with Captain Hammols indicates that this date didn't really go any better,"  
"She was called away," Jeffery said, running through the pre-flight sequence, "Besides, Ah don't think she had that in mind,"  
"Maybe," Sylvia shrugged, "I, on the other hand, had access to the ships internal sensors. I assure you, that woman was in heat,"  
"Bridge, this is the runabout Niagra," Jeffery thumbed the comm switch, "requesting immediate, repeat, immediate departure clearance!"  
"I'm just looking out for you!" Sylvia went on as Jeffery guided the small ship out the shuttlebay doors, "I'd hate for you to be lonely the rest of your life!"  
It was going to be a long trip.

"Time to rise and shine!" Sylvia's clear, happy voice rang out throughout the runabout, rousing Jeffery from a sound sleep in the aft cabin. Poking his disheveled head out from under his covers, Jeffery groaned.  
"I hate morning people," he grumbled, "And morning AIs,"  
"Up and at 'em, sleepyhead!" Sylvia went on, "It's 09:55 hours and-"  
"9:55!" Jeffery shouted, jumping out of bed, "We're supposed to rendezvous with the Stallion in 5 minutes! Crap! CRAPCRAPCRAP!" he rummaged around for his uniform, sitting back down and somehow managing to jam both legs into the same pant leg. He went over with a crash, landing on the carpeted floor, his Starfleet Engineers boxer shorts (featuring a strategically placed hydrospanner on the front and the Starfleet insignia on the back) flapping in the breeze.  
"Nice undies," Sylvia remarked.  
"Dammit, Sylvia," Jeffery cursed, his voice muffled as he correctly arranged his legs in his pants and proceeded to get lost in his uniform top, "I told you to wake me up early!"  
"Well, you had a such a stressful day yesterday, what with being pursued by a beautiful woman who wanted to please you sexually-"  
"Will ye give it a rest?" Jeffery growled, his head finally emerging.  
"-that I thought I'd let you sleep in a bit," Sylvia finished.  
"This is important, Sylvia!" Jeffery shouted, "The Stallion's on her way to help the Delta Grenthari colony! Ah can't delay them-"  
"We docked with the Stallion 15 minutes ago," Sylvia stated, "Captain Simplot was so thrilled that we were early that she didn't mind at all when I told her we had a few things to finish up here before we met her,"  
"We…what?" Jeffery skidded to the halt as he arrived in the piloting compartment, the windows looking out into the Stallion's shuttlebay rather than the open space he was expecting, "We're there?"  
"Yup," Sylvia confirmed.  
"And ye took this long to tell me?"  
"I did,"  
Jeffery crossed his arms.  
"Y'know," he said, annoyed, "Ah really think yer getting a nasty sense of humor in yer old age!"

Stepping out of the runabout with Sylvia's control box slung over one shoulder and his bag over the other, Jeffery was met by a very nervous looking Lieutenant. His uniform collar had the mustard-yellow color of Operations, and his black hair was buzzed so short he was nearly bald, except for a strange pattern of slightly longer hair. Jeffery wasn't sure what it was, but he didn't want to stare.  
"C-commander J-J-Jeffery?" the man asked, his voice quivering, "Uh, welcome t-t-to the S-S-S-S-S-Stallion," one hand shot awkwardly out.  
"Yeah, that's me," Jeffery smiled," Ah'd love to shake yer hand, but mine are kinda full," And, he added mentally, it looks like it's doing a good job of shaking all by itself.  
"Oh!" the as yet unnamed crewman exclaimed, yanking his hand back like it'd been burnt, "S-s-s-so s-s-s-sorry,"  
"Ease up, bud," Jeffery said, trying to remember just what Vonna did with her voice when she was calming down callers, "It's OK. What yer name?"  
"L-L-Lieutenant Shurgoe," Shurgoe said, "I k-know, it doesn't sound human. M-my dad was from Alpha Centauri,"  
"Really?" Sylvia spoke up, "So is Simon's mother! Oh, what a delightful coincidence! What was your father's name?"  
"I-I-I.." Shurgroe's eyes widened in terror, staring at the box of computer components slung over Jeffery's shoulder. He wavered for a moment, collapsing to the deck.  
"Oops," Sylvia said softly.

"I am SO sorry," Sylvia said, sounding downright mortified, "I didn't mean to scare him,"  
"It happens," Dr. Annerson said with a friendly smile, running a hand through her shortly cropped blond hair. She was a shorter Durentian woman with pale green skin, looking to be in her late 30s. Or at least the Durentian equivalent of late 30s. She had a bearing that Jeffery best described as 'motherly'. 2 years with Sylvia had made him somewhat of an expert on motherly behavior, regardless of race, "The poor guy had a panic attack last week during a battle drill. Wound up racing through the corridors stark naked and screaming about evil subspace instabilities,"  
"Ah hope he's gonna be OK," Jeffery gulped, turning to look at Captain Simplot, "Not much of a first impression, huh? Ah come here to fix stuff and Ah end up breakin' one of yer crewmembers,"  
"Actually, I broke him," Sylvia spoke up, the speaker grill on her box slightly dented from where Shurgroe hit it on his way down.  
"Don't worry about it," Simplot shrugged her slim shoulders, tossing her jet-black hair and smiling at Jeffery, "I bet you've made more than your share of positive first impressions,"  
Oh boy, Jeffery thought to himself. Time to change the topic!  
"Still," Simplot went on, "We're going to have to get him introduced to Sylvia. He's going to be working with her quite a bit for the next month,"  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded. Tunney had only scheduled them to be with the Elfman for a couple of days, as their biggest problem was their maximum warp speed. The Stallion, however, had been plagued with so many problems since her launch less than 5 months after Silverado that she had barely been able to remain on active duty. Prior to shipping them out, Tunney had setup an engineering conference call between many of the Operation Salvage ships having minor problems. Jeffery and Sylvia had managed to give enough tips and tricks to integrating old and new technology to get most of the Chief Engineers pointed in the right direction. The Stallion's condition, however, had been one of Tunney's main reasons for starting the project in the first place.  
"What does he do on this ship, anyway?" Jeffery asked, indicating Shurgroe as the younger man started to stir.  
"Lieutenant Shurgroe?" Simplot bit her lip, "Um, he's our Chief Engineer,"

Jeffery remained calm as Shurgroe regained consciousness and was carefully informed that the talking box was an AI he'd learn more about at the upcoming staff meeting. He remained calm as Dr. Annerson told Shurgroe that if he kept missing his medication he was going to give himself a heart attack. He even remained calm when he noticed Captain Simplot's eyes wandering over his body.  
After being escorted to the computer core he easily convinced his escort that he could manage Sylvia's installation on his own. Once he was sure it was just him and Sylvia, he longer felt the need to remain calm.  
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" he screamed.  
"I thought they were nice," Sylvia said.  
"No wonder this ship is a wreck!" Jeffery snapped, looking for the access panel, "that guy couldn't fix a wobbly table, nevermind a starship!"  
"Didn't it occur to you that the reason why is Chief Engineer is because his skills outweigh his emotional problems?" Sylvia asked, "I'm sure if I had a talk with him we could settle him down a bit. He really did seem like a nice young man,"  
"He's in one of the most important positions on this ship! Who holds the ship together when yer being attacked? Who's responsible for keepin' the entire crew alive? If it's him then I want OFF this ship!"  
"Not likely," Sylvia said, "Our orders are to stay here 'until it's fixed',"  
"DAMMIT!" Jeffery swore, having banged his elbow on the opposite wall, "I can't believe a ship this tiny used to be the biggest thing in Starfleet!"  
"It's not the size that counts, dear,"  
"Don't you start!" Jeffery grumbled, "Ah have no issues with size! Not that anyone would know, since it's been two years since I got to snog a-!"  
"Ohh, this is getting juicy!" Sylvia giggled, "Sexual tension, much?"  
"Why now?" Jeffery said, yanking out connectors and chips, clearing a space for Sylvia's module, "Ah mean, it's not over with Noel. We were really getting somewhere. Now that Ah have some space Ah got hot women comin' at me from all directions!"  
"Most men wouldn't complain," Sylvia said, "Except for Jall's type, maybe,"  
Jeffery frowned.  
"Why would he comp-"  
"Nevermind, dear," Sylvia said quickly, "And Simon, I think you need to come to grips with it. You and Noel are finished,"  
"It was just a spat," Simon said.  
"You left her for a new assignment without even telling her," Sylvia pointed out.  
"I left a message," Jeffery defended himself, "And we might be going back,"  
"I'm sure that will reassure her,"  
"Ok, all done," Jeffery said, changing the subject by plugging in the last connection between Sylvia and the Stallion, "Now, don't do anything until I get a chance to brief the senior staff. We don't need any more accidents!"  
"Party pooper," Sylvia grumbled. But her voice was still coming from the box, not the ship.

"Did something crap on your head?" Tactical Officer Hurken chuckled, walking past Lieutenant Shurgoe and taking his seat in the Stallion's briefing room. Where modem ships had conference lounges off the bridge, the Constitution class had it a deck down, meaning the staff had to take a turbolift ride anytime they wanted to meet. It was, in Captain Simplot's opinion, a major pain in the ass.  
"It's a W-W-Wiccan symbol of g-g-good fortune," Simplot said, one hand going self-consciously to the shaved pattern of hair on his skull, "I-I-It's supposed to bring good luck,"  
Sighing, Dr. Annerson leaned over and pressed a hypospray to Shurgroe's neck. He immediately calmed.  
"MEDICATION!" Annerson snapped, waving the hypospray in front of Shurgroe's face before pressing it into his hand, "No more of that homeopathic crap!"  
"Maybe he just likes the 'homeo'part," Hurken snickered.  
"I can get far more women than you can," Shurgroe said, his stutter and the look of terror both gone, "It comes with being tall slim and handsome, as opposed to being shaped like an egg,"  
Lt. Commander Hurken was a Tellarite. Aside from being, in the eyes of most humanoid species, short fat and ugly, they also considered rudeness to be good manners. While that particular oxymoron played havoc with the revised 24th century edition Emily Post, Hurken's attitude sufficiently annoyed people that they had very little trouble adapting to his mannerisms.  
"Tellarite women," Hurken was saying, "Prefer men that don't look like vigorous lovemaking would break them in half!"  
"There are Tellarite women?" Operations Officer Sinclair asked in clipped Caribbean tones, "So how does one tell the difference between a Tellarite man and a Tellarite woman? They look the same to me!"  
Hurken threw back his head and let out a strong belly-laugh.  
"Good one," Simplot chuckled.  
"What, mon?" Sinclair asked, "I was serious!" Sinclair was 6 feet of solid, female muscle. Her dark Caribbean features and long, thick hair had occasionally caused to her be mistaken for a Klingon woman when viewed from behind, but once she turned around it was clear that she was 100% human and 150% woman. And, if she didn't like you, 100% trouble.  
Lieutenant Tereneth, the Hermat assigned to the helm, crossed its arms and grinned.  
"What's so funny?" First Officer Iron Kren, a joined Trill asked, arms crossed.  
"I find it very interested when you two-gender races spar over sexist topics," Tereneth admitted, "We never get arguments this entertaining on Hermat,"  
"Hmph," Hurken snorted, "What fun is it when a planet has only one gender?"  
"I agree," Shurgroe said, "I mean, I think having my own breasts would take all the fun out of it,"  
"You do realize," Kren said, annoyed by the conversation, "that any minute now the expert from Silverado will be here. Do you really want his first impression of us to come from a conversation about breasts?"  
"All white human men like the booty," Sinclair said. Simplot laughed out loud.  
"Oh, good," Tereneth smiled, eyeing hir small but properly formed breasts, "He sounds like fun. We need more fresh meat on this ship,"  
"You have other parts he won't like so much," Science Officer Gonzalez commented. He'd been quiet for the rest of the exchange, stroking his neat beard. Born in Spain, he had strong Latino features that had led to much female pursuit. And just as much female 'interaction'.  
"Hermat anatomy is fascinating," Annerson said, "But no, it wouldn't make a good impression,"  
"I think it's a bit late," Shurgroe said sadly, "His first impression is me passing out,"  
"Don't worry, Josh," Tereneth assured the slim engineer, "By the time we're finished with him, he's going to love working on this ship,"

"I already hate this ship," Jeffery muttered, waiting patiently for an engineering crew to free him from the turbolift he'd become trapped in.

"Does this belong to you?" Ensign Simko asked, leading Jeffery into the conference room. It had only taken 15 minutes to get him out of the turbolift, but in that short time Sinclair and Hurken had managed to get into an arm wrestling match over who could beat up who's mother. Annerson had been cheering for Sinclair when Hurken kicked Sinclair under the table. She'd retaliated by slamming his face into the tabletop, spilling the jug of water that had been set out.  
Jeffery surveyed the scene. A big dark-skinned woman with breasts the size of watermelons was shouting at a short, fat and ugly Tellarite while the doctor he had met was lecturing Shurgroe, who had apparently tried to ditch his hypospray in a potted plant during the commotion. A slim alien who's race he didn't recognize was eyeing him up. Jeffery noticed a nice if small rack as his eyes automatically looked it (her?) over. But he also noticed an un-feminine bulge further down. Gulping, he turned his attention to Simplot. She had just turned her attention away from a Latino fellow in the corner and had been about to speak to a very annoyed looking Trill. All conversation died down as everybody turned to look at Jeffery, the slim alien running her tongue over her lips. Everybody had water on their laps and the puddle of water was continuing to spread from a spilled pitcher on the table.  
"He doesn't belong to me yet," Tereneth said, "But give it a day or two,"  
"As you were!" Kren snapped, "Commander, I apologize for our appearance. I assure you, this is not typical behavior.  
Everybody else at the table rolled their eyes.  
"Don't worry about it," Jeffery force out, trying to smile, thinking of food fights, virtual reality battlefields and Jall's incident with the supply ship Kleyson, "Ah've, er, seen worse,"  
"But you'll never see better," Tereneth grinned.  
"Down girl!" Sinclair cried, waving a hand, "let the poor man be!"  
"S/he gets a little excited when we have company," Simplot chuckled.  
"Sha-who?" Jeffery asked, locating a chair without water on it and taking a seat.  
"S/he," Kren explained, pronouncing it 'sha-he', "Lieutenant Tereneth here is a Hermat,"  
Jeffery looked blank.  
"The entire species is dual-gender," Gonzalez explained, taking up his role as Science Officer, "No men or woman. Just a mix of the two. We've got an entire set of pronouns just for them: S/he. Hir. Hish. So forth. They have a committee setup to help facilitate their relations with us two-gender races,"  
"That's what it's for officially," Tereneth said, "Usually they just make fun of the flat chests and pot-bellies your males have,"  
Jeffery continued to look blank, a bit of fear entering into his face.  
"S/he has a penis!" Sinclair said.  
"That was uncalled for!" Tereneth crossed hir arms, glaring at Sinclair, "Now I'll NEVER get him into bed! Human males are so sensitive about those things!"  
Annerson started laughing, shooting water out of her nose as she tried to gently set her glass down on the table.  
"As you all were!" Kren snapped, "Commander, perhaps you could begin your presentation? I believe there was something you wanted to tell us all?  
"Uh, right," Jeffery gulped, looking again at Tereneth and making a mental note to avoid her. Hir. Whatever.  
"Um, well," Jeffery stood, "As some of ye already know, I have, uh, a sort of strange assistant. And Ah want to avoid some of the, er, misunderstanding we've had in the past," he paused, "Uh, by the way, who are all ye people?"  
Simplot quickly made introductions.  
"Ah. Thank ye," Jeffery swallowed again, then related the story of how Sylvia was created: Jall's tampering with the computer's personality profile at the start of their mission, the repeated exposure of the gel-packs to the brain-wave distorting Matrian Dream Machines leading up to the computer's full immersion in the Matrian Dreamland and Sylvia's achievement of self-awareness.  
"Amazing," Gonzalez said, "How does it handle the integration of standard isolinear circuitry into its neural pathways? What does it use for memory storage, permanent or-"  
"SHE," Jeffery emphasized, "has explained everything about a dozen times to our Science Officer. And while Fifebee knows what's goin on, she hasn't been able to explain it to the rest of us. At least not well enough for it to make any sense."  
"Fifebee?" Shurgroe asked.  
"Science Officer Jane 5-B is an experimental hologram," Kren said, "And you, Lieutenant, need to keep up with current advances,"  
"Yes sir," Shurgroe muttered.  
"So what's the problem?" Simplot asked.  
"Why do ye think there's a problem?" Jeffery asked, trying to keep a straight face.  
"There is ALWAYS a problem," Hurken grunted, "especially when humans are involved!"  
"Tellarite etiquette, honey," Annerson smiled at him.  
"Huh?" Jeffery frowned.  
"Like so," Annerson turned to Hurken, "I'd like to see a walking sack of pork like yourself do better!"  
"Rabid she-ape!" Hurken shot back.  
"Oh, just go take a roll in the mud why don't you!" Annerson shot back. She smiled reassuringly at Jeffery.  
"Right," Jeffery was, for some reason, starting to feel more comfortable. Annerson had a friendly, motherly attitude that reminded him of somebody. Oh, right.  
"What I wanted to warn you about," he said, "Is how Sylvia integrates with the ship. She kinda, um, takes the place of the computer's personality profile and integrates herself into the systems. That's how she's able to help me find glitches and figure out where repairs and adjustments need to be made," he swallowed again, "She also takes care of all the computer's interaction with the crew. She likes it when you say 'please' and 'thank you' and expects to be treated like another member of the crew,"  
Everybody stared at him.  
"She's a computer, right?" Shurgroe asked.  
"She's a self-aware artificial life-form," Jeffery said, getting annoyed.  
"Like Commander Data was?" Sinclair asked.  
"No, not like Commander Data was!" Jeffery snapped. He took a deep breath, "Ye know, let's just meet her so ye can see for yerselves," he tapped his tricorder, opening a link to Sylvia's module and sending the signal for her to integrate herself.  
Within seconds, Sylvia's face appeared on the triple display screens on the middle of the table and her voice rang out from the computer speakers.  
"Hi everybody, nice to meet you! I'm really looking forward to working with all of you," she smiled out at everybody.  
Everybody looked at Sylvia's image, over to Dr. Annerson, then over at Jeffery.  
"Twice as much nagging," Shurgroe said softly.  
"More insipient female whining," Hurken grunted.  
"Security nightmare," sighed Kren.  
"Juicy gossip!" Annerson and Tereneth exclaimed.  
"I would do her," Gonzalez shrugged.

"You've reached the USS Silverado, this is Ensign Yanick speaking, how may I help you today?"  
"Trish?" Jeffery frowned, trying to make out Yanick's face on his screen. He'd checked the terminal in his quarters for problems but couldn't get rid of the static that raced across the screen every time he tried to make a subspace call, "What are ye doing running communications?"  
"Weelll," Yanick looked embarrassed, "When T'Parief was handling communications everybody kept hanging up, so we tried having Jall do it. But he started hitting on all the hot callers so now it's my turn,"  
"Right,"  
"Y'know Noel's really pissed at you, right?" Yanick said, frowning at him, "That note wasn't very nice! Not that she told me about it. I had to hear about it from Sage, who heard it from Shwaluk who was talking to Gibson. But anyway. Noel isn't really talking to anybody right now,"  
"I actually wanted to talk to Chris,"  
"Chris?" Yanick looked confused, "Oh! The Captain! He's not taking calls either,"  
"Why not?" Jeffery asked.  
"I don't know," Yanick said, "Everybody's been acting weird the past week, since we got back from that other universe. If you ask me-"  
"Tell Chris I wanna talk to him," Jeffery cut in, "He'll talk to me,"  
"Uh, he said 'Ensign Yanick, no calls. Unless it's something REALLY important from Starfleet',"  
"I'm in Starfleet, and it's important!" Jeffery snapped.  
"What?" Yanick looked at some kind of commotion happening off the screen, "Sage! No! Don't pull that circuit, I'm trying to-"  
The signal cut out.  
Jeffery sat staring at the blank screen for nearly a minute.  
"Riiiight," he signed.

Lieutenant Gonzalez tossed his uniform jacket into his laundry basket, having returned to his cramped quarters at the end of his shift. If he'd been on a REAL ship, there would have been a nice window with a view for an officer of his rank, but no. His quarters were deep inside the saucer section on Deck 5. As deep as you could get on a relatively small Constitution-class ship. He stepped over to the food replicator that had been installed in one corner, hoping it was going to work today.  
"Computer, random pasta selection," he ordered, "Something with plenty of meat in it,"  
The replicator sputtered, but didn't produce any food.  
"Why don't you let me try, dear," the voice of that AI, Sylvia cut in, "Though I could try a lot harder if you said 'please',"  
"AI, please get my replicator going," Gonzalez said.  
Nothing happened. There was a sound that he was almost certain was the AI clearing its throat.  
Grimacing, he tried again.  
"Sylvia, please get my replicator going!" he repeated.  
"One sec, dear," The lights on the control panel changed configuration several times as Sylvia directed her full attention to locating the problem, "Um, do me a favor will you? I need a strong young man to yank that lower panel off and turn chip 43-26G around. It's in backwards,"  
Gonzalaz complied, located the offending chip and repositioned it as instructed.  
"Much better," Sylvia said happily. The replicator hummed and a pile of sauce-coated noodles appeared.  
"Thanks," Gonzalez said curtly, grabbing the plate and stuffing a pile of pasta into his mouth.  
"My pleasure," Sylvia said happily, startling Gonzalez to the point where he started choking, "Although if I may say, young man, you seem to have far more images of nude females in your quarters that might be appropriate. I'm a bit surprised, actually. Most men don't find Klingon or Bolian women to be attractive,"  
"Why are you still here?" Gonzalez snapped, having recovered from his strangulation problem.  
"I beg your pardon," Sylvia replied haughtily, "I would have thought that after I helped you with your problem you might actually have some time to chat with me,"  
There was an audible 'click' as the comm-line went dead.  
Shrugging, Gonzalez noticed that his antique erotic portrait of Zeg'nar of Andoria was crooked and moved to straighten it.

The next morning, Jeffery rode the turbolift from his quest quarters in the saucer to the engineering deck, relieved that on this visit to the Stallion he didn't have to crawl through 10 decks of Jefferies tubes to get there.  
Stepping out of the turbolift and into the corridor he rounded the corner into the main engine room-  
CLANG!  
And bounced off the sealed blast door.  
"Bugger me!" Jeffery shouted, rubbing his forehead, "Sylvia, why is this door locked?"  
"One second, Simon," Sylvia said hurriedly. After a moment, the door hissed open, "Problem with the control circuits," Sylvia said curtly.  
"Uh, thanks," Jeffery replied, "Sylvia, are you feeling OK?"  
"Oh, I'm JUST fine!" Sylvia said, "Just a little stressed. And overworked. This ship is falling apart! And this computer core just doesn't have the processing power I'm used to! And this crew is rude and ungrateful!"  
"Ye should be used to that, after dealing with us," Jeffery tried to joke.  
"Oh, I'm managing," Sylvia sighed, "It's just a pain to have to get people used to me all over again,"  
"Commander J-JJeffery!"  
"Bloody hell," Jeffery muttered as Lieutenant Shurgoe spotted him.  
"R-R-Ready to get started?" Shurgoe asked, gulping and cringing slightly away from Jeffery.  
"He sure is," Sylvia cut in, "And he really likes your haircut, by the way,"  
'THANK ye Sylvia!" Jeffery snapped. Just what he needed, somebody making nice for him with people he didn't like, "Look, Lieutenant, we've got a lot of work to do, let's just get it done, OK?"  
"Y-Y-Y-Y-Yessir," Shurgroe ducked back.  
The Stallion's engine room didn't have an office, but it was big. The chamber took up most of the upper deck of the secondary hull, with the warp core stretching up through the ship's neck and down to the antimatter storage pods in the lower secondary hull.  
"Ye left the original warp core in?" Jeffery was shocked, eyeing the downright primitive vertical and horizontal intermix chamber arrangement. Modern warp cores were basically vertical tubes within which matter and antimatter were forced together within magnetic containment fields, the explosive interaction usually taking place in a centralized reaction chamber with plasma conduits carrying the resulting high-energy plasma to the EPS taps. The taps drew out a relatively tiny amount of plasma to power the ship while the rest went to the warp nacelles. The Stallion's arrangement of a horizontal intermix chamber stretching back through the secondary hull was so outdated Jeffery had never seen one outside of a museum.  
"I-I-It's been r-r-refurbished," Shurgroe tried to explain, "n-new articulation frame, imp-p-proved magnetic constrictors and-"  
"Dude, where's yer hypo?" Jeffery interrupted.  
Shurgroe bit his lip.  
"I-I-I don't like drugs," he said, "I d-d-did a calming chant this morning,"  
"Josh," Sylvia said gently, "I really think it would be better if you took your meds,"  
Shurgroe jumped at the sound of Sylvia's voice, but didn't pass out.  
"I-I-I-I-I-I-"  
"Why don't we have a little chat while Simon takes a look around?" Sylvia offered.

Jeffery was half buried in one of the electro-plasma system control units when Shurgroe returned.  
"She's quite a lady," Shurgroe said, smiling. Clearly, Sylvia had convinced him to take the hypo.  
"She's special all right," Jeffery said, yanking out a burnt-out crystal node, "What the hell was this supposed to do? Ah don't even recognize half of these circuits! Is this some kind of power shunt? But what the hell is it supposed to be shunting?"  
"Uh, I don't know," Shurgroe shrugged, "Um, but about Syvlia…"  
"What?" Jeffery asked, reaching his hand out for a replacement node.  
"Is she taken?"  
Jeffery banged his head so hard he saw stars. Extracting himself from the cramped space he gripped his throbbing skull.  
"WHAT?" he snapped.  
"She kinda reminds me of my last girlfriend," Shurgroe said sheepishly.  
"She is NOT on the market!" Jeffery snapped.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Shurgroe backed away, "Are you two…?"  
Jeffery's eyes widened.  
"NOOO! Ah have a girl back on Silverado! Sylvia's just not that kinda girl!"  
"And how would you know, Simon," Sylvia chuckled, breaking into the conversation, "It's not like I haven't taken holographic form before. Maybe I'd enjoy a night on the town with-"  
"Ah can't take this!" Jeffery interrupted, "From either of ye! Shurgroe, tell me what the biggest problem is with this ship. Sylvia, we're going to do our job and get it fixed!"  
"We're dropping out of warp," Shurgroe said suddenly.  
Jeffery blinked.  
"Well," he frowned, 'That's an odd problem, but I'm sure we can-"  
"No, Simono," Sylvia said, "We've arrived at Delta Grenthari,"  
Jeffery perked up.  
"Right on!" he said, giving his head one last rub, "Lets get to work. At least with the warp engines shut down we don't have to worry about being fried by the plasma flow!

Captain's Log, Stardate 58164.6

"Having arrived at the Delta Grenthari system, we've started unloaded the supplies needed by the colony. Uh, there've been some problems with the new cargo transporters, so we're taking a lot of stuff down by shuttle. The cargo deck is a hive of activity.  
Meanwhile, our cute visiting engineer has the engineering team scrambling. Shurgroe has been doing a great job, but the infusion of fresh ideas and experience that Jeffery and Sylvia bring are badly needed. Oh, that reminds me. They need to fix that problem with the internal sensors…

Captain Simplot sat quietly in her seat, surveying the bridge. Bored out of her skull. The Stallion didn't even have a ready room for her to retreat to, just the tiny office in her quarters. Also in line with the layout of older bridges, there was only one command chair. First Officer Kren, while far too professional to complain about it, wasn't very happy about having to sit way over at the Environmental Control station when Simplot was on the bridge.  
"Two more shuttles arriving," Kren reported.  
"Open shuttlebay doors, engage tractor beam, yadda, yadda, yadda," Simplot sighed.  
"You mean shuttlebay door, right?" Hurken scowled, tapping his padd.  
"Right," Simplot groaned. Only one of the two bay doors was actually functioning at the moment, "Any chance Jeffery and Shurgroe can get that fixed?"  
"They've got their hands full as it is," Tereneth said, running hir hands over the helm board.  
"Full of what, I wonder?" Kren mused.  
Sinclair turned around to look at Kren, her eyebrow lifted almost to her hairline.  
"I just meant that they didn't seem to be making much progress," Kren growled, "I wasn't implying anything!"  
"I wouldn't mind having my hands full of either one of them," Tereneth grinned.  
"Wake up and smell the hormones!" Hurken laughed.  
"Actually," Gonzalez cut in, leaning over his science console, "You don't smell hormones. Pheromones, on the other hand-"  
"Don't you people talk about anything other than sex?" Sylvia's voice cut in, causing everybody to jump.  
Tereneth was the first to recover.  
"We do," s/he said, "It's just that everything seems to lead back to the bedroom,"  
"I don't think it's very healthy," Sylvia said, "have you considered turning down the temperatures in your sonic showers?"

Even as Sylvia simultaneously bickered with the bridge crew while helping Jeffery and Shurgroe identify and repair glitches, another plot was brewing. As the shuttlecraft Pinto was being loaded, a single figure casually walked out, dressed in a neat, clean and fake Starfleet uniform.  
Checking to be sure her hair was in the prerequisite bun, she made her way into the vast cargo bay of the Stallion. The retractable deck plates that covered the lower cargo deck had been retracted to allow for shuttle loading and the divider between the hanger bay and cargo bay had been dropped. It was really too bad, she mused, that Starfleet had moved away from the huge cargo and loading facilities of the Constitution-class in favor of scattering smaller cargo bays across various parts of the ship. It might be a waste of space, but it was impressive.  
But she had a mission to accomplish. Enough sightseeing.

"Another backwards chip?" Shrugroe frowned, scratching his head.  
"Aye," Jeffery said, tapping the control to open shuttlebay doors. This time, both of the huge clamshell doors slid smoothly open.  
"This is really getting annoying," Sylvia complained, "This makes 212 backwards isolinear chips, 98 defective data shunts and 324 hardware incompatibilities,"  
"We get it," Shurgroe said, " there were some errors when the ship was refurbished,"  
"It ye'd replaced these old chip slots with the newer versions," Jeffery suggested, "they would have automatically readjusted, no matter how ye inserted the chips,"  
"And it would have taken 10 times as long to do the refit," Shurgroe said glumly, "Lose-lose scenario,"  
"Well, another day, another problem fixed," Sylvia said happily, "Simon, Josh, good work!"  
"Thanks," Shurgroe sighed, smiling weakly and heading out.  
"Yer being awfully cheerful about a shuttlebay door," Jeffery grunted, tapping the control to close the doors and preparing to follow the other engineer.  
"Somebody has to encourage him," Sylvia said softly, "Considering we left Delta Grenthari yesterday and had to do the entire supply transfer through one shuttlebay door, I really doubt the Captain is going to be the one doing it,"  
"Ye think Simplot's gonna take it out on him?"  
"She's not happy about it," Sylvia sighed.

"And so this is another problem that we should have spotted months ago?" Simplot said archly, one eyebrow raised as she regarded the two engineers. Normally she'd prefer to have this conversation in her ready room, but the closest equivalent meant a very awkward turbolift ride down with the two of them.  
"In Shurgroe's defense," Sylvia started, "It would be very difficult to spot without manually checking each bank of chips-"  
"Which we wouldn't have had to do if they'd been installed properly in the first place!" Simplot replied hotly.  
"True," Sylvia said, the shrug evident in her voice.  
"And you managed to find it with little trouble,"  
"Well, yes," now Sylvia was sounding uneasy, "But even on this ship I have many times the processing power of a humanoid brain,"  
As everybody on the bridge looked up, somewhat startled and just a little offended Jeffery couldn't help but smother a chuckle.  
"Even on this ship?" Simplot asked.  
"Oh my," now Sylvia sounded downright embarrassed, "I didn't really mean it like that-"  
"Smaller computer core," Jeffery jumped in, trying hard not to laugh, "Less processing power and all. Cuz, y'know, sometimes size does matter…"  
Simplot stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. The tension on the bridge eased noticeably.  
"No offense taken, Sylvia,"  
"He's right, after all," Tereneth purred.  
"Here we go again," Kren sighed.  
"Captain," Hurken said suddenly, "I have a vessel approaching. Orion in design. They're hailing us!"  
"Why didn't we see them sooner?" Simplot asked.  
"They managed to slip past our long-range sensors," Hurken said.  
"On screen," Simplot said.  
An Orion male appeared on the viewscreen. The last Orion Jeffery had seen had been one of the ugliest things he could have imagined. This one must not have fit that bill, judging by the way Sinclair and Tereneth's attention were suddenly captivated by the viewscreen.  
"Speaking of size…" Tereneth trained off, moistening hir lips.  
"I'm Captain Simplot of the USS Stallion," Simplot said, remaining seated in her chair, "What can we do for you?"  
"I am Krunts," the Orion stated, "You have something very valuable that we want. Give us the hologram. Now."  
"Hologram?" Simplot asked, "I don't know what you're talking about,"  
"What is he talking about?" Shurgroe muttered to Jeffery.  
"I have no idea," Jeffery shrugged.  
"Do not lie!" Krunts snapped, "the hologram arrived on your ship 2 days ago. Surrender her, now!"  
"Captain, I've muted the signal," Gonzalez broke in.  
"Does ANYBODY know what the hell he's talking about?" Simplot asked.  
"He thinks Lieutenant Fifebee is aboard," Gonzalez replied immediately.  
"What?" Jeffery frowned, "how do ye figure that,"  
"Obviously, they heard that we were receiving an artificial intelligence from the Silverado and assumed it to be Lieutenant Fifebee," Gonzalez explained, "She is common knowledge, while Sylvia is not,"  
"Let's not correct them," Kren suggested.  
"You think?" Simplot asked, arching an eyebrow, "How many hundreds of years of experience did you need to figure that one out?" She ordered Gonzalez to restore audio.  
"By hologram do you mean Lieutenant Fifebee?" Simplot asked.  
"YES!" Krunts snapped, obviously not pleased by being placed on the starship equivalent of hold, "Turn her over to me at once or I will destroy you!"  
"You're welcome to try!" Simplot said firmly, "End transmission!"  
"Uh," Jeffery looked uneasily at Shurgroe, "Can you guys fight an Orion ship in this thing?"  
"I-I hope so!" Shurgroe gulped.  
"We'll be in Engineering!" Jeffery said to Simplot, grabbing Shurgroe and hustling him into the turbolift.  
"Raise shields!" Simplot ordered, "Arm weapons!"  
"Shield generators 3 and 4 are not responding," Hurken stated, "Aft and ventral shields are only at 40%"  
The ship shook as the Orions opened fire.  
"Forward shields down to 80%!" Hurken reported.  
"Enough with the commentary!" Simplot shouted, pushing her ponytail back, "Shoot back! Evasive maneuvers!"  
The Stallion ducked as Tereneth tried to keep the stronger shields towards the Orions. Weak phaser fire spat from her upper emitters and splashed against the Orion's shields, doing little damage.

Jeffery grabbed a support as the ship shook again.  
"We need more phaser fire!" Simplot's voice came over the comm.  
"We've never been able to get the phasers above 70%," Shurgroe said.  
"Why not?" Jeffery asked, "Ye've got the power levels and the emitters, what's the problem?"  
"I don't know!" Shurgroe said, "But the power just doesn't make it to the emitters!"  
"It's gotta be something with the circuitry in between," Jeffery snapped, tapping on his console and pulling up diagrams and power flow charts.

"We're taking a beating!" Hurken snapped, "Just like any poorly designed human-"  
The ship shook again, sparks exploding from one of the consoles.  
"Hurken, this really isn't the time!" Simplot snapped, "Fire torpedoes!"  
One lonely torpedo shot out of the Stallions launch tubes, slamming hard into the enemy vessel.  
"That shook them up," Sinclair reported.  
The ship crashed again.  
"And made them mad!" Tereneth shouted.  
"Engineering!" Simplot thumbed the comm switch on her chair, "What's the story on those phasers!?"  
"Working on it!" Shurgroe's voice came back.  
"Now isn't the time to be hunting for backwards chips!" Simplot said, cutting the channel.

"Ah don't get it," Jeffery said, "The power conduits for the phaser banks are designed to handle a lot more plasma then they're getting, the warp core has the excess plasma capacity, but the EPS taps just can't pull it all out!"  
"T-t-t-there's gotta be something we're n-n-n-n-ot understanding here," Shurgroe said.  
"Man, take yer hypo!" Jeffery snapped, "This isn't the time-"  
"I-I-I did!" Shurgroe snapped back, "B-b-battles just really make me nervous!"  
"Oh,"  
The ship crashed again, a direct hit to the secondary hull nearly breaching the engine room hull.  
"Reinforce that area!" Shurgroe shouted, pointing at the deformed section of wall. Immediately two crewmen ran over and started phaser-wielding reinforcements over the deformation.  
"Sylvia," Jeffery called out.  
"I'm a little busy, Simon," Sylvia replied.  
"Ah need ye to examine the old Constitution-class designs," Jeffery shouted, "See if there's something with the phaser power systems we're not getting,"  
"One sec,"

"Quick, take us into that asteroid field!" Kren suddenly spoke up.  
"Asteroids?" Simplot snapped, "Are you crazy?"  
"Our shields are failing," Kren said, "We need to buy time! We'll be harder to hit if we're dodging between rocks!  
"He's got a point," Hurken said, "For a slimy slug,"  
"Take us in," Simplot nodded.

The Stallion's impulse engines pulsed to life, sending the ship gliding towards a rock roughly the size of Newfoundland. Using the asteroid's weak gravity to help maneuver, she curved around it just as the Orion ship fired. The shot hit the edge of the asteroid, blasting lose a spray of shattered rock which glanced off the Stallion's shields. Still, the impact was much less than the disruptor blast would have been and the weakened shields held.

"How's that shunt coming?" Jeffery called. Shurgroe and 3 of his engineers were working frantically on the EPS control circuits that had so confounded Jeffery earlier, just past the EPS taps, connecting a series of cables and plasma conduits.  
"A few more minutes!" Shurgroe said  
"Engineering to bridge!" Jeffery called up, "We're on to something! Just buy us some time!"  
"We're working on it!" Kren's voice came back, "And, by the way, if you could do something about our shields it would be much appreciated!"  
"On it!" Jeffery replied. He started tapping at the warp core control console. One of the disadvantage of the old intermix chambers was that they were so much bigger. This meant twice as many magnetic constrictor segments and much more power needed to run the containment fields. But it also meant that if you siphoned off some of the power from the magnetic fields while still keeping them strong enough to contain the matter-antimatter reaction, you could get a very nice little power boost. Doing exactly that, Jeffery fed the extra power in the shields and programmed the constrictors to slowly build back up to their previous charge. It was, he reflected briefly, similar to the method he'd used to power Silverado's phaser cannon. If somewhat more risky. A lot more risky, actually.  
"Shields back up to 60%," he informed the bridge.  
"W-w-we're ready over here!" Shurgroe called.  
"Give the phasers a try too!" Jeffery added.

"You heard the man!" Simplot called back to Hurken, "Get us out of this asteroid field and open fire!"  
The Stallion soared out from behind the asteroids, surprising the Orion ship, which veered abruptly out of the way. This time the phaser beams that shot out and hit the Orion ship dead center did very noticeable damage.  
"Phasers at 110%!" Hurken called, "Their shields are down to 50%!"  
"Keep firing!" Simplot ordered, "Don't give them time to recover!"  
The Stallion shook as the Orions returned fire.  
"Hull breach on Deck 20," Sinclair reported.  
"Firing torpedoes," Hurken reported.  
Again, only one torpedo soared out to hit the Orion ship. But it was enough.  
"They're retreating," Hurken reported.  
"Let them go," Simplot ordered, letting out a sigh of relief and pulling her hair back into place, "Start on repairs," she smiled, looking around at her crew, "Hey, we did pretty good!"  
"Our first fire-fight!" Hurken laughed.  
"And we survived!" Tereneth pointed out.  
"It's good to know that now we have teeth!" Sinclair laughed.  
"I don't like women with too many teeth," Gonzalez said thoughtfully, "it just causes problems sooner or later,"  
Nobody asked what he meant by that.

"So you see," Sylvia explained, her face displayed once again on the briefing room's triple display screens, "When the Constitution-class was redesigned they increased the phaser power by channeling it through the warp engines. They had some trouble with it when the first refit vessel was caught in an unstable wormhole, but beyond that the system worked fairly well,"  
"Except that it hasn't been used in starships for over a century," Jeffery added, "We use a much more efficient and reliable system now. Except-"  
"E-E-Except our refurbished warp core i-i-isn't designed to work that w-w-way," Shurgroe cut in, "W-w-w-w-w—"  
HSSSSS!  
"MEDICATION!" Dr. Annerson bellowed, smacking Shurgroe upside the head with one hand while the other injected him with calming drugs.  
"I think you both need to be medicated," Hurken grunted.  
"Anyway," Jeffery went on, grinning, "Ye shouldn't have anymore trouble with yer phasers,"  
"Good," Kren said flatly, "Then you can take a look at why our torpedo tubes aren't firing properly,"  
"Having some trouble with the old torpedo tube, are you Commander?" Sinclair asked, her large bosom bouncing as she laughed.  
Kren turned beet read as his expression darkened.  
"Can't get the torpedoes to fire, huh?" Tereneth giggled.  
"Can't penetrate your opponents shields?" Sylvia added.  
"Oh! That was a good one!" Sinclair slapped one big hand on the table, "I like this girl!"  
Even Kren had to crack a smile.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Penelope snapped quietly at the image on her viewscreen, "Do you know how much trouble it was to track down the AI and find a way to stow away on this ship when she was transferred! And you decide it's a good idea to sic the Orions on her before I have a chance to make my move? Now everybody here is on guard!"  
"We didn't put the Orions up to this!" Penelope's controller answered, "They got wind of the bounty on the hologram's head and took matters into their own hands. You're just going to have to do what you can to salvage the situation!"  
Penelope was quiet for a moment.  
"Who else knows about the bounty?" she asked.  
"At this point?" the controller shrugged, "I don't know. But given the amount of latinum we're talking about, you can bet that the USS Stallion isn't going to be a very safe place to be until that hologram is captured,"  
"We're sure the hologram is the AI they want, right?" Penelope asked.  
"Pretty sure," the controller answered, "She's the only artificial intelligence listed as being attached to Silverado, and the contract was for Silverado's AI. Why?"  
"I don't know," Penelope said, frowning, "There's something that's just off with what I've been hearing on this ship," she shook her head, frustrated, "But this crew is too tightly knit. They'd notice me in a second if I started asking questions, and computer access has been almost impossible to crack for some reason,"  
"You'll figure it out," the controller said, "For the amount of latinum we're talking about, you better!"  
"I'll get the AI," Penelope vowed, "even if I have to kill the entire crew to get it!"

End


	3. Family Circus

Star Traks: Silverado

3.3 "Family Circus"

"What is it?" Jall asked, staring at the strange, shiny object sitting in the middle of the conference lounge table.  
"It's pretty," Yanick added, the slightest frown on her face as her lips drew into a pout.  
"Can we touch it?" Lieutenant Sage, Acting Chief Engineer asked.  
"Hey guys," Captain Stafford said pleasantly as he stepped in from the bridge, carrying a tray with cups, a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar, "I think we need to have a replicator installed in here. I know it's already kind of cramped, but if we get rid of the potted plant in that corner-"  
"What the hell is this?" Jall asked, gesturing at the object on the table as Stafford set the tray down next to it,"  
"It's a pot of coffee, San," Stafford said, his smile showing signs of strain.  
"Yes, we can see it is coffee," T'Parief said, throwing a dirty look at Jall and taking a large bite out of a brown object.  
"The question is," Dr. Wowryk cut in, "What is it doing here?"  
"I thought it'd be nice if I made you guys something to drink during our meeting," Stafford said, taking his seat, "Y'know, part of that whole 'Let's Improve Our Working Relationships' thing,"  
"Ah," T'Parief nodded, his mouth still a bit full, "That was on 'The Vonna Show' last night, yes?"  
"Oh yeah!" Yanick piped in, "Something about random acts of kindness?"  
"Yeah, yeah," Stafford sighed theatrically.  
"It's a lovely gesture," Wowryk smiled, "I think if we all follow the Captain's example we'll be well on our way to a happier and more mentally fit team,"  
"Let's take this one step at a time," Noonan said, grinning.  
"Hey Wowryk, I think you have something brown on your face," Lieutenant Sage said, "Right about here," he tapped at the end of his nose.  
"Lieutenant," Wowryk said, her tone turning chilly as she looked down her nose as Sage, "That isn't funny,"  
"Speaking of brown stuff," Jall said, turning to T'Parief, "What are you eating?"  
T'Parief swallowed abruptly.  
"Nothing," he said.  
"Chocolate," Yanick corrected, drawing an annoyed look from the security chief, "I think he's hooked,"  
Jall looked down at T'Parief's middle.  
"Uh, Jall," Stafford said after a moment, clearing his throat uneasily, "Um, what are you looking at?"  
"I was wondering why he was sitting so close to the table," Jall said, looking back up, "Turns out he's using it to hide the fact that he's getting a bit of a gut!"  
"I am not getting fat!" T'Parief snapped, his teeth coming together with a 'click'.  
"Mr. T'Parief, you should know that chocolate is very high in calories and really shouldn't be eaten in large amounts," Wowryk said, "I can suggest some great, healthy alternatives-"  
"Isn't chocolate poisonous for dogs?" Sage wondered, "I wonder if it's good for reptiles?"  
Everybody stared at him.  
"I'm just trying to fit it," he said in a very small voice.  
"Compare me to a dog again and you will fit in," T'Parief said, a dark expression on his face, "Fit into a storage locker, that is,"  
"If we could all get to the point?" Noonan suggested.  
"Right, right," Stafford reached for the coffee pot on the table and poured himself a cup, "As you all know, I'm taking a few days off to go to a family reunion on Starbase 45. I'm confident you'll manage just fine without me-"  
"Easily," T'Parief nodded. Stafford looked at him, a slightly offended expression on his face.  
"I did not mean it like that," T'Parief amended.  
"We're going to be short on support craft," Sage said, desperate to contribute, "With you off in the Asessippi and Jeffery using the Niagra we're going to be out of runabouts.  
Dead silence fell at the mention of Jeffery's name. A few eyes flickered over to Wowryk.  
TINK!  
"Fascinating," Fifebee stated, picking up a tiny object from the conference room table, "It was actually possible for human ears to hear this pin drop,"  
"You don't have to walk on eggshells around me," Wowryk said, crossing her arms, "I'll handle Jeffery when he returns, but there is no need to avoid mentioning him around me or talking about him. He was a very important member of this crew after all,"  
Eyebrows rose.  
"Sexual intercourse," Jall said loudly.  
Wowryk flinched back, an expression is distaste on her face.  
"Oh good," Stafford sighed in relief, "I was worried we'd brought the wrong Wowryk back from that super-competent universe for a moment there,"  
"Bridge to Stafford," Lieutenant Quintaine's voice came over the comm, "Sir, we have a ship approaching. They're asking for you specifically,"  
"What do you make of them?" Stafford asked.  
"It's a civilian vessel," Quintaine reported, "They won't say what they want though,"  
"We'll be right out," Stafford said.  
"Perhaps it is time to officially promote Lieutenant Quintaine and move him into the Executive Officer slot," Noonan suggested.  
"I thought you were the Executive Officer," Wowryk said, looking puzzled.  
"I am," Noonan said, "But only because I am usually on the bridge during the evening shift anyway. Technically, the ship should have a First Officer for the day shift and an Executive Officer to handle command duties on the night shift,"  
"But who would run the bridge during meetings during the day?" Yanick asked.  
"Executive Officers don't sleep," Stafford said, getting up and heading for the door, "They need to be able to pop up anytime it's convenient for the Captain to be away from the bridge."  
"Wow," Yanick said as everybody filed out, "I'd hate to have that job,"

Stafford and Noonan relieved a yawning Lieutenant Quintaine and seated themselves on the bridge.  
"I hope this business doesn't take long," Stafford grumbled, "If I'm late for the reunion it's going to be a toss-up as to who kills me first, mom or one of my aunts,"  
"Kills you first?" Fifebee arched an eyebrow, "As opposed to one of them killing you second?"  
"They're hailing us again," Jall reported, "Civilian transport, two life signs. Cargo seems to be foodstuffs.  
"On screen," Stafford signed.  
There was a flurry of static, but nothing appeared on the viewscreen.  
"Jall?" Stafford asked.  
"Just a minute," Jall groaned, "The subspace transceiver is out of alignment again,"  
"Didn't you fix that yesterday?" Yanick asked innocently.  
"No," Jall growled, "SAGE fixed it yesterday! It's not MY fault the ship is falling apart again!"  
"Oh," Yanick chewed on the end of her ponytail, "I just thought that if something was fixed it usually stayed fixed,"  
"Not on this ship," Sage grumbled from the engineering console, "OK, try it now,"  
A man and woman appeared on the screen. The man looked a little like Stafford, only older and a bit heavier. He also had a dark moustache. The woman on the other hand…  
"Hi Sylvia!" Yanick called happily, waving at the screen.  
"Oh crap," Stafford sighed, shaking his head.  
"Christopher!" Catherine Stafford called out, putting her hands on her hips, "Really! You've been on that ship for two years and none of those people know who your mother is?"  
"Mistaken identify, Mom," Stafford choked, "You, uh, look like somebody else…we, um…know,"  
"Oh, well," Catherine smiled, "It's so good to see you, honey! How have you been? Why aren't you on your way to the reunion yet?"  
"I was just about to leave," Stafford said, "But, I, uh,"  
"Good thing we caught you in time," Greg Stafford cut in, "Makes things easier. We had to make a couple of change,"  
"What kind of changes," Stafford asked, an icy cold suspicion gripping his gut.  
"Those PEOPLE," Catherine said the word as though the people in question were anything but people, "at Starbase 45 overbooked their convention center," Catherine crossed her arms, clearly annoyed, "So we're moving the reunion,"  
"I don't like where this is going," Jall whispered to Yanick.  
"Where to?" Stafford asked, the cold suspicion turning abruptly to pure dread.

"Just how many people are we expecting?" Steven asked. He'd been summoned to the conference lounge the second Catherine and Greg had signed off the comm and started docking their ship in the shuttlebay.  
"Including my parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws and second cousins?" Stafford asked, "Around 50,"  
"That's not so bad," Steven said. Yanick and Noonan were seated at the table, the former spooning sugar into her coffee.  
"And that's just my grandmother's branch of the family," Stafford sighed, "If you include her brothers and sisters, along with their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren we're looking at around 200,"  
Steven blanched.  
"Did you consider just saying 'no'?" he asked.  
"I thought about it," Stafford said, "then I came to my senses. In a battle between this ship and my aunts, I'd bet on my aunts any day,"  
"You think a bunch of civilian vessels could take out an Ambassador-class starship?" Noonan asked calmly.  
"Hey," Stafford snapped, "you're talking about slaughtering my family there!"  
"Not seriously," Noonan corrected.  
"No, no, of course not," Stafford grinned, "But you don't know just how, um, aggressive my aunts can be,"  
He turned to Yanick.  
"Trish," he said, "I want to make a good impression. I haven't seen some of these people in years. So I'd really appreciate it you could take care of making everybody feel welcome,"  
"Sure!" Yanick smiled, "Uh, you know we don't have VIP accommodations for that many people,"  
"Start with the guest quarters," Stasfford said, "then move on to vacant crew quarters, then the cargo bays. Grandma gets her own suite, so do her brothers and sisters,"  
"Yes sir!" Yanick grinned, giving a mock salute, "The younger they are, they tighter we pack them in!"  
"You got it,"  
"And how long will this last?" Steven asked.  
"Oh, just a day or two," Stafford assured him.

"You're going to be here for 4 days?" Stafford exclaimed.  
"I'd think you'd be a little happier than that to see me," Catherine said, sounding a little hurt as she looked around the guest quarters she and Greg had been assigned. Greg, burdened with his wife's luggage, was dropping suitcases in the bedroom.  
"It's not that I don't like seeing you, Sylvia, uh, Mom," Stafford said, "It's just that, y'know, this is a Starfleet vessel and we kind of have a mission…"  
"Oh, don't worry about that honey," Catherine said, waving a hand, "We've managed to get your mission postponed for a bit so we can have the reunion here,"  
Stafford's eyes widened.  
"How the HELL did you do that?" he asked.  
"Watch your mouth!" Catherine said firmly.  
"Dad?" Stafford turned to his father, "How on EARTH did you get Starfleet to divert an entire starship just for a reunion?"  
"It was easy," Greg chuckled, "After the Yeoman on Starbase 45 told us they'd overbooked their convention center we just sent your Aunt Claurice up to have a word with the station commander. He was really cooperative, actually. Called up some Admiral and managed to convince him that your mapping mission wasn't worth all the bad PR Starbase 45 would get if they didn't arrange something,"  
"Aunt Claurice," Stafford fought back a grin. Yup. That would explain it.  
"Anyway," Catherine pulled Stafford into the third hug of the past 20 minutes, "It's good to see you! Now you run off and make sure you have parking spots for everybody. Oh, and get some strong young men down to the shuttlebay to unload our ship, we've brought in food for everybody. No way we're having a family reunion with that replicated garbage!"  
"Yes, Mom," Stafford said.  
"Oh, and send your doctor around to look at your father's back. He strained something unloading my luggage,"  
"Yes, Mom," Stafford sighed.  
"And make sure you have quarters ready for your Grandmother! You know what your aunts will say if everything isn't set up for her!"  
"Yes, Mom,"

"Big Banger, this is Silverado," Jall said, tapping at the Auxiliary station he had temporarily converted into a traffic control panel, "You're cleared to dock at the port saucer airlock,"  
Watching Jall from the corner of his eye, Noonan couldn't help but grin. The slim human/Trill officer was wearing an earpiece, Uhura-style, and only his half of the conversation could be heard.  
"No, we don't have room in the shuttlebay for a transport ship your size," Jall went on, sounding annoyed, "Yes, I know this class of vessel has two shuttlebays. They're both booked already. No, we didn't get the refit with the expanded shuttle capacity. I don't know why not. I said I don't know, it sure as hell wasn't my idea!" Jall's face reddened and Noonan could see his hands clasp into fists. Noonan frowned. What was that strange crinkling sound?  
"Look, you pompous old man, I don't care who you are!" Jall snapped, "Or how many micrometeorites scratch the paint on your new ship! You're going to dock at the port saucer airlock or you're just going to have to get out and walk over!" He slammed one fist down on the cut-off switch, closing the channel.  
"Where's Yanick when you need her?" Jall complained loudly, rubbing one shoulder, "She's much better at dealing with ignorant, no-brain-"  
"Another vessel is approaching," T'Parief cut in. As he spoke, a small piece of chocolate broke free of the candy bar he'd been covertly eating and landed in Noonan's hair. Noonan, oblivious to the tasty intruder, casually crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.  
"I suggest you find parking space for them, Mr. Jall," Noonan said pleasantly.  
"You realize I hate you now, right?" Jall grunted, "Right along with the Captain's blow-hard uncle,"  
"You'll get over it," Noonan replied.  
"OK, so the new arrival is just a Class-B shuttle," Jall grumbled to himself, "We have room for one of those still in the shuttlebay…"  
As Jall tried to arrange spaces for all the ships coming in, T'Parief finished cramming the last of his chocolate bar into his mouth. Ahhh! The delight, the pure JOY of 100% pure milk chocolate. He savored the taste as the hard squares softened, melting in his mouth into a glob of gooey goodness before finally, unable to restrain himself, he chewed and swallowed, releasing a burst of extra flavour.  
But now his chocolate was gone! No, wait. There was still a piece on Noonan's head! All he had to do was reach out…  
"We've got the Big Banger back on the line," Ensign K'sek purred, her Caithan features giving her the look of a walking, talking housecat.  
"Hold, please!" Jall snapped, cutting of whomever he was talking to, "What do they want?"  
"Mr. Stafford wants to know why Mr. Macodon was permitted to park in the shuttlebay when he was not," K'sek replied.  
"You're joking, right?" Noonan rose to his feet. T'Parief snagged his hand back, leaving the chocolate on Noonan's head. Noonan stepped forward, "Are these the Captain's relatives or a pack of two year olds?"  
"Tell him smaller ships fit in smaller spaces!" Jall told K'sek, "And that his ship is even fatter around the middle than he is!"  
T'Parief reached out again. He could almost reach it…if only Noonan would take a step back!  
"Let's edit that a bit, shall we?" Noonan suggested. He turned to K'Sek, oblivious to T'Parief who had now silently eased one knee onto the tactical rail so he could reach further towards the candy balanced on Noonan's scalp, "Let's just tell him that his ship won't fit, Mr. Macodon's will,"  
K'sek relayed the message.  
"Now he's saying that-"  
CRASH!  
T'Parief, having lost his balance, tumbled off the tactical rail, falling hard enough on one side of the captain's chair that the chair itself was torn free of its pedestal.  
"Hold, please," Noonan said into the comm as he regarded the unconscious officer.

Chris Stafford nearly fell flat on his face as his cousin Rory slapped his back with a meaty paw.  
"Nice ship you've got here," Rory said, smiling.  
"Thanks," Stafford grinned weakly, "It's, er, a classic,"  
"I'll say! Why, there was a ship just like it in this history special I saw on the holovision last week…'  
"Yanick!" Stafford called, attracting the attention of his helm officer. Yanick smiled and carefully navigated through the crowd of family members filling Cargo Bay 2, which had been converted into a gathering place.  
"Your Uncle Mitchell just arrived with his family," Yanick relayed breathlessly, "And he wants me to tell you he knows this great after-market place where you can get an expansion for the saucer shuttlebay,"  
"Oh, brother," Stafford groaned.  
"Your brother?" Yanick consulted a padd, "Nope, haven't seen him yet. In fact, he's not on the list,"  
"Nevermind," Stafford sighed. He smiled, trying to look welcoming as a young male relative approached him. The guy had Klingon cranial ridges and was clearly of mixed birth.  
"It is an honor to be aboard the vessel that crushed the Matrian fleet," the youth said harshly, his words clipped.  
"It's good to have you here," Stafford nodded, "Uh, excuse me," he ushered Yanick away.  
"Who the hell was that?" he muttered.  
"Um," Yanick consulted her padd, "Only one of your relatives married into a Klingon family.  
"Let me guess," Stafford said, "My sister?"  
"Um, no," Yanick said, oblivious to the joke, "Your father's sister's son Randall Stuvokivitch married K'Tren of the House of Farthus 15 years ago. This must be their son, George,"  
"George?" Stafford fought back a chuckle, "I have a half-Klingon second-cousin named 'George'?  
"Cousin," Yanick corrected, "I think."  
"George," Stafford started giggling.  
"At least he knew about one of the good things this ship has done," Yanick shrugged.  
"'George'," Stafford was nearing hysterics, "Of the house of Farthus!"  
"Mother to Stafford,"  
Crewman Gibson, who had been pressed into serving drinks at the pre-reunion gathering, passed by just as the comm sounded and started giggling at Stafford.  
"Momma's boy!" he laughed.  
"Get out of here!" Stafford said, helping Gibson on his way with a firm push, "What is it, Mom?"  
"Your Aunts Claurice and Lillian are arriving with your Grandmother. They want to see you,"  
"Of course they do," Stafford shook his head.  
"And Chris?"  
"Yeah?"  
"We need to have a talk about this 'Sylvia' person your crew keeps mistaking me for. I swear, I can't even use the comm system without somebody calling me Sylvia! It's like they have some issue with the sound of my voice!"  
"Yes, Mom," Stafford sighed.

"This is insane," Lieutenant Stern grumbled, using one hand on a support strut to brace himself as another set of parents along with 5 screaming, yelling kids pushed their way through the corridor.  
"Bajoran children," Ensign Rengs said crossly, "Are far more disciplined and well behaved than this!"  
"Uh-huh," Ensign Marsden winced as a small, flailing fist caught him on the cheek. The mother gave a rushed apology as she shifted the infant to her other shoulder and started chasing after another child that had run into the turbolift, "And the fact that your kid has kept you up for the past 3 nights screaming has nothing to do with it?"  
"This far from the peace of the Prophets-" Rengs started, but was cut off.  
The turbolift doors had closed, whisking the child away to who-knows-where.  
"My baby!" shrieked the mother, "Where did he go?"  
"I don't know," Marsden shrugged, "The last guy to take that turbolift didn't come back for nearly a week,"  
The woman paled.  
"Knock it off," Stern snapped, "Ma'am, if you'll follow me…"

"I said this is a BAR!" Steven repeated for what felt like the millionth time, "You can't bring kids in here! We used to have a family friendly policy, but that Captain threw that out the window months ago,"  
"Do you know who I am?" Mitchell Stafford growled, a thick cigar hanging out of one mouth.  
"A fat man with a bad attitude?" Samantha, one of the waitresses asked.  
"Uh, Dad," one of the children in question said, "maybe we should just go find Mom and-"  
"I'm not letting these Starfleet jerks push me around!" Mitchell said firmly, "I have rights! I know the captain of this stinking ship and I…I"  
Mitchell trailed off as he was confronted by a wall of fur. Ensign Dar'ugal, the Barudan security officer, had been drawn by the racket and clamped a heavy paw on Mitchell's shoulder.  
"Oh, no you don't!" Mitchell swung, hitting the Barudan in the gut. Without any visible sign of discomfort, Dar'ugal swept one arm around, knocking Mitchell off his feet.  
Before he could drag the man out of the lounge, Dylan Stuvokivitch, one of the captain's cousins, leapt onto the security guard's back, trying to take him down. Dar'ugal shook him off, only be tripped by a third member of the captain's family.  
"Security to Unbalanced Equations," Steven called into his comm-badge, "Help!"

"How can we put this delicately?" Wowryk said, half to herself, her mouth pulled into a grimace.  
"Just give it to us straight, Doctor," Noonan said, giving a sideways glance at Jall and chuckling inwardly, "What's wrong with him?"  
"Aside from the obvious fact that he's a huge mutant lizard," Jall cut in, unable to resist.  
"He hit his head on the way down," Wowryk said, "And cracked 2 ribs. Nothing serious, the damage is repaired,"  
"Except for the Captain's chair," Noonan mused, "But why did he pass out in the first place?"  
"Pass out?" Wowryk frowned, "He didn't. He was rendered unconscious when he hit the deck,"  
"Then what was he doing?"  
Nurse Kerry, having just finished examining the chocolate-smeared tips of T'Parief's claws, noticed something on Noonan's head and reached up to grab it.  
"Probably reaching for this," she said, plucking down a small piece of chocolate, "He had this stuff under all 8 claws,"  
"Oh my," Noonan chuckled, "How long has that been there?"  
"At least since T'Parief knocked himself out," Jall laughed.  
"Which brings us to the awkward part," Kerry sighed.  
"He's addicted," Wowryk said, going with the blunt approach.  
"Addicted?" Jall look incredulous, "to CHOCOLATE?"  
"Yes," Wowryk said sadly, "With his biology, the compounds in cocoa beans that we use to make chocolate break down in his systems into a substance that acts almost like a narcotic,"  
"Almost?" Noonan asked.  
"Narcotic?" Jall added.  
"It's not the same," Wowryk explained, "I could write an entire paper on this. In fact, I will. No doubt I'll earn great acclaim with it in the medical community, perhaps even a Pulaski award or two," she noticed an annoyed look on Noonan's face and moved back to the topic (and patient) at hand, "In any case, we just need to wean him off chocolate,"  
"And get him to join a gym," Jall said, pointing at T'Parief's somewhat enlarged stomach, "At least most drugs don't make you fat!"  
"I'm sure once he gets his addiction cleared up he'll get back into shape," Kerry said, "He's really obsessive about being fit,"  
"He should be," Noonan observed, "Since he's responsible for protecting all of us. Can you wake him?"  
Wowryk and Kerry exchanged looks.  
"Uh, of course," Wowryk said, "Please stand back. Computer, activate a Level-4 security field around bio-bed 3," As the field crackled to life, Noonan and Jall exchanged confused looks while Wowryk fitted a small canister of Gorn smelling-salts onto a long, extendable pole. Tapping the controls, she created an opening in the force field and carefully extended the pole through so the canister bobbed under T'Parief's nose.  
"He doesn't really like being woken up," Kerry said, in way of explanation, "We found that out during the thing with the Matrian SIDs. Y'know, when he crushed Lieutenant Fifebee,"  
"And Yanick sleeps with this guy?" Jall asked.  
Wowryk twitched, half the canister of smelling salts spilling out as the container hit T'Parief's cheek. She quickly repositioned it.  
"Has either of them actually explained how they manage to…you know?" Noonan asked.  
"Come to think of it, no," Jall scratched his head, "Maybe they're not having sex at all?"  
Wowryk spilled the remainder of the smelling salts, yanked the pole back out and began looking for another canister.  
"Humans, or humanoid aliens," Noonan amended, "Rarely maintain relationships without having sex on at least a semi-regular basis,"  
"DO YOU TWO MIND?" Wowryk snapped, rummaging her medical cart, "I'm trying to work here!"  
"Sorry," Noonan said, abashed.  
"Second time's the charm," Kerry said pleasantly as Wowryk refilled the smelling salts and eased them towards T'Parief's nose.  
"RRAAARRRGGGHHHH!" with a shriek of animal rage, T'Parief leapt off the bed and crashed into the force field. Unfortunately, the field threw him right back, cracking his head against the bio-bed. He fell to the floor, unconscious.  
"Third time's the charm?" Noonan suggested.  
"I'll go get the crash helmet," Kerry said.

Stafford stood in the control room for Shuttlebay 2, watching as the small ship containing his grandmother and two aunts settled in for a landing in the spot reserved for them. Stafford frowned, tugging at the collar of his white dress uniform. He could have sworn the last time he'd seen that ship it hadn't sported ablative amour. Or enhanced warp nacelles.  
"A brawl already?" he groaned, having just heard Stern's report on the attack on Dar'ugal, "Anything else?"  
"Our teams are busy just trying to keep track of all the brats," Stern reported, "If anything else like this comes up-"  
"Pull the science teams in for backup," Stafford interrupted, "And those evil little monsters you're talking about are my relatives!"  
"Uh, I just said 'brats', sir," Stern corrected.  
"Yeah, but I know them better than you do," Stafford grinned, "Stafford out."  
"Come ON Chris," Catherine snapped, "Let's not keep them waiting!"  
"Yes, Mom,"  
Stafford led his parents and Ensign Yanick down into the shuttlebay.  
"CHRISTOPHER RICO STAFFORD!" came a shrill voice.  
"Rico?" Yanick asked.  
"Don't ask," Stafford sighed.  
"Funny story," Greg Stafford started, "you see-"  
"Dad, please!" Stafford begged.  
"We'll talk later," Yanick whispered to Greg, "I bet you have a lot of stories about Chris that the crew would love to hear!"  
"What are you DOING wearing white in this grimy shuttlebay?" Claurice Thenian asked, her hands on her hips. Claurice, Yanick noted, was slightly older than Stafford's parents, though she sure did seem to have the energy of youth. She wore a professional yet sylish dress, carefully applied makeup and gold earrings that looked like they had tiny dilithium crystals imbedded in them. Her curly, shoulder-length dark brown hair was arranged in the kind of hairdo one would expect from a saleswoman, though Claurice herself was far more often seen on the customer side of the counter. After raising 5 children of her own and dealing with various other members of the Stafford clan, Claurice and most of her sisters had adopted a no-nonsense attitude that left little room for argument.  
"My shuttlebay isn't grimy!" Stafford said, trying anyway.  
"What, not even a hello for your dear aunt?" Catherine nagged, hands on hips.  
"She started it!" Stafford objected, "URK!"  
Claurice had snagged Stafford in a tight hug.  
"It's good to see you!" she said, smiling, "Now go help your grandmother with her luggage!"  
"Yes, ma'am," Stafford nodded, stepping into the ship.

"Chris," Lillian Stuvokivitch said as Stafford entered the passenger compartment, "Hello. Please get one of your crew people to take your grandmother's luggage to her quarters. She's had a long trip and needs to rest,"  
"Hi Aunt Lillian," Stafford said, "Uh, Aunt Claurice told me to carry-"  
"Don't be ridiculous," Lillian cut him off, "A starship captain carrying luggage? How absurd. You need to remember that your rank holds some dignity!" she frowned, "At least it should. What ARE you DOING wearing white in this grimy shuttlebay?"  
"Oh, boy," Stafford sighed.  
"Randall?" a soft voice called out.  
"Uh, no…" Stafford said, moving towards the aft cabin.  
"Geor-Gre-Al-Jo-," Stafford's grandmother started several different names before she found the right one, "CHRIS! Yes. How are you dear? I haven't seen you ages! What are you doing wearing white in a dirty shuttlebay anyway?"  
"Hi Grandma," Stafford smiled, carefully hugging the frail-looking woman and ignoring her comment on his dress uniform, "I'm glad to see you!"  
"NO, take the large case FIRST!" Claurice's voice filtered back from the front of the ship, "And lift with your knees, not your back, do you want to slip a disk?"  
"Sounds like 'help' has arrived," Stafford chuckled.  
"Well, they should keep your aunts busy for a while," Grandma Stafford chuckled, her eyes shining with amusement, "You look like you haven't eaten all week! Why don't you use that transporter thing of yours to get us out of here and into someplace where I can fix you something?"  
"The subspace compensators on the transporter emitters have been giving us trouble," Stafford said, "If we tried an intraship transport we'd end up with our molecules smeared.." he trailed off. What was he doing, trying to explain transporter theory to a woman who'd spend her youth as an expert in warp field mechanics?  
"Right," Stafford mentally kicked himself. With the ship sitting idly in space with the warp drive powered down, there was no reason not to use the transporter.  
"Stafford to Transporter Room 1," he said, tapping his comm-badge, "two to beam to Platterheads,"

Wowryk, T'Parief and Yanick were seated in Wowryk's small office off of Sickbay. T'Parief was still wearing the crash helmet Kerry had pushed onto his head to keep him from knocking himself out again, except now it was stuck and wouldn't come off.  
"I don't understand how this could have happened," Wowryk was saying, "The replicators are supposed to adjust your foods based on your species' bio-chemistry,"  
"It could have been another malfunction," T'Parief said, "We have had a lot-"  
"It was my fault," Yanick said quietly, "You see…"

Two weeks ago…

T'Parief stepped into Yanick's quarters, flinching as he met the eyes of at least a dozen potpourri lizards. And 5 stuffed rabbits. Rabbits? What the snarz?  
"Happy Easter!" Yanick said happily.  
"Easter?"  
"Oh, it's some holiday that celebrates when that guy Jesus came back from the dead," Yanick explained.  
T'Parief frowned.  
"Why would anybody want to do that?" he asked.  
"Well," Yanick hesitated, "It was sort of a religious thing. Uh, why don't you ask Noel the next time you see her?"  
Like hell T'Parief thought to himself. He sighed inwardly, preparing himself to experience yet another human custom, "What does this holiday entail? Rituals? Rites of Passage?"  
"I don't really know," Yanick frowned, "I know there's some stuff about prayer, and blessing food. And something about 'Good' Friday, but I'm not sure why it's so good. Personally, I think any Friday is a good day,"  
"I see," T'Parief said, keeping his expression blank.  
"But we get to eat chocolate!" Yanick said happily, pulling out a chocolate rabbit, "I thought you might like one of these. Cuz, y'know, you like eating small animals. I like small animals and hate it when you kill them. But since this one's meant to be eaten…"  
"There is no blood," T'Parief complained, "And no crunch of bone,"  
"But this one has caramel in the middle!" Yanick said, pushing the candy towards the security officer, "And chocolate crunches!"  
"Very well. I will try one bite…"

"And so you can see how that turned out," Yanick finished gloomily.  
Wowryk stared at her for a moment.  
"That 'guy' Jesus?" she repeated, her expression darkening, "'Stuff' about prayer?"  
"Uh-oh," T'Parief gulped.

"And this is Sickbay, Grandma," Stafford said. Grandma Stafford had donned an exoskeletal support suit, allowing her to move easily around the ship, even considering her advanced age. After fixing Stafford a bite to eat, she'd insisted on seeing as much of the ship as she could before she was bogged down in family duties.  
"We have a very highly skilled medical team," Stafford said proudly.  
At that moment, Nurse Kerry rushed towards one of the bio-beds, shouting loudly.  
"Code white! We have a CODE WHITE people! Move!"  
"They certainly seem well organized," Grandma Stafford observed as nurses and medical assistants rushed to assigned stations, "But where's the patient?"  
"What's a Code White?" Stafford asked, scratching his head.  
"IGNORANT, ATHIEST INFIDELS!"  
"That's a Code White!" Nurse Kerry called, taking a sheltered position behind the bio-bed.  
"Uh-oh," Stafford pulled his grandmother as gently as he could to the side as T'Parief and Yanick came running from Dr. Wowryk's office, a bottle of holy water spraying it's contents as it pin wheeled through the air.  
"Hi, Captain!" Yanick called out. T'Parief ducked into the corridor, hauling Yanick after him, "Bye, Captain!"  
Dr. Wowryk stepped calmly out of her office and crossed her arms.  
"May I help you?" she asked coolly, regarding Stafford and his grandmother.  
"We were just leaving," Stafford gulped, leading his grandmother out the door.  
"They seemed very nice," Grandma Stafford observed on the way out.

"Where HAVE you been?"  
"Uh-oh," Stafford groaned. His Aunt Claurice came marching down the corridor. He could see Aunt Velora right behind her. Which would mean that Velora's husband and daughters were on board by now. Likely Elisa was hitting her head in the corridors already, smearing them with that funny hair paint she liked the use. The kid was just way, way, WAY too tall.  
"We just went for a look around," Stafford said.  
"Using intraship beaming to get past us?" Claurice snapped, "Those things are dangerous! In fact, I heard about this one man who-"  
"Mother, you should know better than to go wandering around a strange ship," Velora said, "You don't know what kind of people you might run into!"  
"I met a very nice young lizard in Sickbay," Grandma Stafford said, "And I'll do what I like, thank you!"  
"That's my crew you're talking about here," Stafford said, annoyed.  
"Then you're the one we should talk to about the accommodations?" Velora asked.  
"Uh, that would be Ensign Yanick," Stafford said, trying to dodge the bullet, "Is there a problem?"  
"There aren't any kitchens!" Claurice complained, "Lindsey brought a cheesecake that needs to be refrigerated immediately, and our suite doesn't have a kitchen!"  
"Mmmm," Stafford sighed, remembering his cousin Lindsey's cheesecake.  
"Christopher!"  
"Oh! Um, the Officer's Mess on Deck 12 has facilities-"  
"Let's go," Claurice said.  
"I'll take Mother to her suite," Velora said.  
The three of them hustled off, leaving Stafford standing by himself in the middle of the corridor.  
"That could have gone worse," he remarked.  
"Yanick to Stafford," chimed the comm, "Sir, your sister just arrived,"  
"Crap," Stafford sighed.

"What happened to my chair?" Stafford demanded, standing at the rear of the bridge with his hands on his hips as Sage tried to reattach his chair to its pedestal.  
"It broke," Noonan said, straight faced.  
Stafford gave Noonan a 'no duh' expression.  
"Y'know," Sage said, "there are mounting points in the deck here for a third chair. I bet Counselor Yvonnokoff would like a chair up on the bridge,"  
"No!" Stafford said firmly, accompanied by a calm 'No, thank you,' from Noonan.  
"She's, er, busy enough as it is," Stafford added, "No need to add to her workload,"  
"Speaking of which," Noonan said, "We weren't expecting you back on the bridge so soon,"  
"Obviously," Stafford said, sitting in Noonan's chair. Noonan opened his mouth to object, saw the look in Stafford's eyes and quickly closed it, hoping nobody had seen his fang teeth while he had been standing there rather stupidly with his mouth hanging open.  
"Hey, C," came a voice from the rear of the bridge.  
"Oh no," Stafford said, hunching down in the chair.  
"Excuse me, ma'am," Stern started, turning around from the tactical rail to address the intruders, "Visitors are allowed on the bridge only by…invitation…oh my…"  
"Here we go," Stafford rolled his eyes.  
"Wow," Sage breathed, letting his phaser welder drop from his fingers.  
Maredeth Stafford and Debora Thenian, Stafford's sister and cousin respectively, stepped out of the turbolift. As they did so, every male head on the bridge snapped in their direction with an almost audible 'snick'.  
Maredeth was a grinning, brown-haired woman with heavy eyeliner and a light, curving figure. Her cloths had been carefully picked to draw male attention to places most likely to reduce said male to a gooey mess. Debora, on the other hand, didn't even need to bother. With her long blond hair, baby-blue eyes and a body belonging on the cover of Nandegar's Secret magazine, she drew male attention whether she wanted it or not. Which she usually didn't. Her disdain for men was something she had in common with Wowryk, though for different reasons. Wowryk despised men for their sexual appetites and ungodly behavior. Debora simply felt that men were beneath her. Useful, perhaps. Attractive, for sure. But ultimately they always bored her.  
"May I show you around?" Stern found himself saying, eyes locked on Debora's breasts.  
"If you like," Sage jumped up, eyeing Maredeth's backside, "I'd be happy to give you a tour of Engineering. We have some Jefferies tubes that are nice and…private…"  
"Hey, over here!' Ensign Pye was having his arms, "Wanna learn how to drive a starship? You can sit on my lap…"  
"Aren't you going to do anything about this, Captain?" Noonan asked.  
"Shhh!" Stafford said, still hunched in his chair, "Maybe they won't see me!"  
"We can see the back of your head, Chris," Debora said, "And besides, the computer told us you were here,"  
"You're crew's a pack of idiots, C," Maredeth laughed.  
"Don't I know it," Stafford growled, climbing out of Noonan's chair, "And don't call me that!"  
"Is this the ready room?" Debora poked her head though the doors on the port side of the bridge, "It's so small!"  
"Mine is bigger," Stern said, then blushed, "Sorry sir, that just slipped out,"  
"Stern," Stafford said crossly, "I just don't want to know,"  
"And what's with this plaque, C?" Maredeth was running one finger over the ship's dedication plaque as though checking for dust, "'You can't be late if you're going nowhere'? That's stupid. And they spelled your name wrong,"  
"I thought we were going to get that fixed," Stafford crossed his arms.  
"It was on Mr. Jeffery's rather lengthy 'to-do' list," Noonan said.  
"That was over two years ago!"  
"Hey!" Debora smiled wickedly, "Where's the button that launches the quantum torpedoes? Cousin Jernall's ship is due right away!"  
No less than 4 crewman stumbled over themselves, offering to show the lovely young lady around.  
"This is just sad," Stafford said with disdain, "C'mon, let's head down to the mess. Mom and Aunt Claurice want to have a Stafford family dinner before the reunion starts,"  
"Oh good!" Debora said, flipping her hair as she lead the way to the turbolift, "I'm STARVING!"  
The bridge fell silent as the turbolift doors closed.  
Noonan looked around before settling in his reclaimed chair.  
"That," he said calmly, "was really quite pathetic,"  
"What are you," Sage asked in disbelief, "Gay?"  
Noonan arched an eyebrow.  
"Y'know, not that you seem gay," Sage quickly backtracked, "Y'know, except that you're sorta refined, and know a lot about wine. And you never seem to chase the women,"  
"I think you should just drop the subject," Noonan suggested, taking his seat "Though I will mention that I had many wonderful sexual adventures with a young woman by the name of 'Amber' in my youth,"  
The turbolift door hissed open and Yanick, Jall and T'Parief strode out.  
"Uh, hi guys," Yanick said, giving a small wave.  
"Good evening," Noonan greeted them politely, "But aren't you all supposed to be off-duty?"  
"We are," Jall grumbled, taking a seat at the unoccupied Port Auxillary console, "But the rest of the ship's been overrun by the Captain's relatives,"  
"The lounge," Yanick said dully.  
"Both mess halls," T'Parief added.  
"The Arboretum," Jall crossed his arms.  
"Guest quarters on Deck 7,"  
"The Observation Deck,"  
"That little waiting room across from Sickbay,"  
"I get the picture," Noonan said mildly, "So what do you plan to do on the bridge then?"  
"I brought a movie!" Jall perked up, holding up a data chip.  
"Charming," Noonan sighed, "Probably some ridiculous tale of sex, violence and stupidity-"  
"I brought 'Interview with the Vampire'," Jall said.  
"Oh, how delightful!" Noonan grinned, hopping into his seat and crossing his legs, "By all means, put it on! Yanick, get some popcorn and beverages for everybody, hmmm?"

"What are you doing here, Doc?" Stafford asked, approaching the entrance to 'Le Plateau Argente'.  
Noel Wowryk shifted little Luke from one hip to the other and forced a smile.  
"Well," she said, "It seems that your father's cousin's niece is engaged to my mother's stepsister's nephew's cousin," she frowned, "Or something like that,"  
"So we're," Stafford gulped, "related?"  
Wowryk paled.  
"Distantly," she said quickly.  
"Very distantly?"  
"Extremely, totally distantly," Wowryk said.  
You humans are the most repulsive species I can imagine Luke thought-spoke to himself. Of course, since most humanoid brains couldn't detect his species' telepathy, all his thought-speaking had been to himself lately. Luke had been found adrift in a stasis pod and mistaken for a humanoid infant. Wowryk had been convinced to adopt him, thinking it an act of generosity. To Luke though, he was a prisoner.  
"So my family invited you to this little Stafford-clan gathering because you're distantly related?" Stafford finally asked.  
"Nooo," Wowryk sighed, "I think they invited me because your Aunt Veronica,"  
"Velora," Stafford corrected without thinking.  
"Whatever," Wowryk grimaced, "Your aunt thought Luke here was cute,"  
"Goody," Stafford sighed.  
The two of them had met at the entrance to Le Plateau Argente, also know as 'Platterheads'. The name came from the huge hats usually worn by the Guinanco waiters. Officially the Officer's Mess, Platterheads had come under the jurisdiction of Guinanco, much to the dismay of Steven.  
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Wowryk said, "But your family isn't going to fit in that room,"  
"Well, no," Stafford said, "this is sort of an immediate family gathering,"  
"Oh, good," Wowryk moved to the door, "than it should be fairly-"  
The door hissed open, revealing close to 40 people talking, laughing and wandering about. Several kids were rushing between the adults, laughing shrilly.  
"-quiet," Wowryk finished with a sigh.

"Hey Chris!" Catherine Stafford smiled, "Glad you're here. Is this your girlfriend, by chance?"  
"Dear GOD no!" Stafford exclaimed, shocked.  
Wowryk punched him on the arm.  
"I know, I know," Stafford said, holding up his hands, "I took the Lord's name in vain,"  
"And would dating me be that horrible?" Wowryk glared.  
"Please don't make me answer that," Stafford moaned.  
"CAPTAIN STAFFORD!"  
"Oh boy," Stafford grimaced as Patsy Horton marched straight towards him, seemingly tiny without her giant hat.  
"These people," she waved back towards the door leading to the galley, "Took over my kitchen and my restaurant! I demand that you remove them immediately!"  
Stafford actually laughed.  
"Horton, I thought you'd realize by now that it just isn't possible to go up against my aunts," he took a sniff, "Besides, it smells like whatever they're doing in there is pretty good. My aunts and cousins are fantastic cooks, you could probably learn something from them,"  
"But Captain, you don't understand," Horton sounded frantic, "They, that is, THEY'RE COOKING CABBAGE!"  
"Ohh, really?" Stafford moved towards the cabbage, "Hey! Lindsey! Are you guys making cabbage rolls in there?"  
"Hi Chris!" a grinning woman with curly brown hair poked her hair out, "We're done with the cabbage rolls. Grandma's just boiling the perogies now,"  
"Awesome!" Stafford laughed.  
"I give up," Horton snapped, storming out of the room.

Little else was said after dinner was served. Everybody was too busy eating the fantastic food that had been prepared.  
"This stuff is really good," Wowryk said, a dribble of gravy dripping down her chin before she could get a napkin.  
"I really wish Horton would have stuck around," Stafford said, pulling another slab of roast beef onto his plate then reaching for the cabbage rolls, "If her staff could learn to cook like this-"  
"If she learned to cook like this," Aunt Claurice broke in, stabbing her fork in Stafford's direction, "You wouldn't have any need to visit with your dear old Aunts anymore!"  
"Aw, c'mon Aunt Claurice," Stafford said, "you know I'd never do that!"  
"Chris, take some of this fish," Catherine said, pointing to a large baked salmon. Wowryk noticed, with some disgust, that the head was still attached to the rest of the fish.  
"Uh, no thanks Mom," Stafford said, "I think I'll just take more perogies…where the hell did the sour cream go?"  
Aunt Velora, who had been getting more smorgie from the kitchen, smacked Stafford upside the head.  
"Whatch your language!" she said sharply.  
"You should hear him when we're being attacked," Wowryk said, "He cusses like a-"  
"Noeeeel," Stafford grumbled warningly.  
"Why isn't the rest of your staff here?" Claurice asked.  
"Were they invited?" Stafford asked.  
"Well, it would have been nice,"  
"Uh, they're busy…" Stafford trailed off. Bad enough he had Wowryk telling stories about him, he didn't need his family and senior staff exchanging notes.  
"Well," Wowryk said, cutting off a tiny piece of perogie and daintily taking a taste, "It's good to see the Captain has a healthy appetite today. As his doctor, I had wondered if he'd been a picky eater since childhood, but clearly-"  
"Picky eater?" Catherine laughed, "This kid wouldn't eat anything! Any time I tried something new it was the same thing," Catherine and Greg exchanged glances and spoke together, "YUCK!"  
"Really?" Wowryk grinned, "Tell me more?"  
"This guy," Greg pointed at his son with his fork, "Is the only person I ever know of who's gone into a Klingon restaurant and ordered Rokeg Blood Pie, 'without the blood',"  
Stafford sunk low in his chair.  
"And forget about mushrooms!" Catherine went on, "And offworld dishes? We went on vacation to Andoria and I was afraid he was going to starve to death!" she frowned, "Or end up gutted by those insane people. One or the other. I kept saying 'eat your veggies, try some mushrooms, try to get a little culture here, but nooo!"  
She passed him a bowl of something Wowryk didn't recognize, except that it was brown and looked vaguely Klingon.  
"Eat some pupenkia," Catherine said.  
"Mom, I'm not eating boiled mushrooms," Stafford grunted, turning green.  
"Try them. You'll like them,"  
"No I won't,"  
"Yes, you will,"  
"No, I won't"  
"How can you know if you've never tried them?"  
"Mother," Stafford crossed his arms, "you're nagging me,"  
"Well than do as I say!"  
Wowryk marveled at how, despite the apparent disagreement, there was never any anger in the words being exchanged. It sounded as though they'd been having variations on that conversation many times and neither really expected the other to give in, yet for some reason they felt compelled to keep trying.  
"Here, Noel," Stafford pulled over a bowl of something else unrecognizable, "try some mushinana. This is the good stuff,"  
Wowryk wrinkled her nose.  
"What planet is it from?" she asked.  
"Earth!" Catherine said, sounding a little cross.  
"It's ham, kubassa, horse radish and boiled egg," Stafford explained.  
"I'll pass," Wowryk said.  
"Wow, it's like you two were made for each other," Greg chuckled.  
Wowryk and Stafford exchanged looks and paled.  
"Please dad," Stafford said, "Don't say that!"  
Well I must admit, Lord Stalart (AKA Luke) was saying to himself, This meal is really quite delightful. Perhaps when my race conquers humanity we will keep your clan as our kitchen slaves,

The next morning the senior staff gathered in the conference room for their morning briefing.  
"BRAAAAAAP!" Stafford belched.  
"Oh, sorry," he said, turning red.  
"Oh, think nothing of it," Fifebee said, crossing her arms, "By all means, subject us to your biological digestion processes,"  
"Somebody got up on the wrong side of the holo-emitter," Jall muttered.  
"At least," Fifebee turned to Wowryk, "Some of you have the courtesy to keep your processes to yourself,"  
Wowryk looked at Fifebee, then over to Noonan and Sage. She swallowed, coloured a bit, tried to hold it in, but…  
"BRAAAAAP!"  
"Oh, that's nasty," Jall waved a hand in front of his face, "What where you two eating?"  
"I honestly couldn't tell you," Wowryk said, "If you'd asked me yesterday I would have told you that Ukrainians came from the planet Ukran 2. But apparently they've been living on Earth all this time,"  
"Hey, don't diss my culture," Stafford said, "It may be a distant culture, since my family hasn't actually lived in the Ukraine for centuries, but it's still culture!"  
"You have a culture?" Sage asked.  
"You know Sage," Stafford said, annoyed, "Just because you're technically a senior officer for the time being doesn't mean you get to make fun of all of us!"  
"I was just curious," Sage mumbled.  
"Well, anyway," Stafford went on, "Since we're just sitting here until my family leaves I guess we don't really have anything to discuss,"  
"What about the way your family has completely taken over the ship?" Jall asked.  
"The dozens of children that are keeping my security forces working overtime?" T'Parief added.  
"Both Steven and Miss Horton have filed numerous complains over bar disputes, overcrowding and the forceful eviction of the Guinanco staff from Platterheads," Noonan added.  
"Have you met my aunts yet, by chance?" Stafford asked Noonan.  
Noonan shifted his weight.  
"Well, yes," he admitted, "the phrase 'Resistance is Futile' came immediately to mind,"  
"You mean those tall ladies with the jewelry?" Sage asked, "They came through Engineering yesterday. Had something to say about everything. Swept right through like a force of nature,"  
"So they're somewhere between a force of nature and the Borg?" Yanick asked.  
"As I said," Stafford said firmly, walking to the door, "We have nothing further to discuss,"  
The doors hissed shut behind him.  
"We could beam them all into space," Jall suggested.  
"I think they're nice," Wowryk objected.  
"You haven't met Uncle Mitchell yet," Yanick muttered, "Pari! Put that down!" she slapped a bar of chocolate out of his hands.  
"Just one piece?" he asked.  
"No!" Wowryk and Yanick said, "No narcotic chocolate and no high-fat foods for you until you recover!" Yanick went on, "And get that silly helmet off your head!"  
The staff started filing out of the room.  
"But it is stuck, and I am hungry," T'Parief whined softly. He stopped, listening to the way his own voice had sounded. Clearly, if he was reduced to whining the chocolate was having more of an impact on him that he had thought. But what to do? Hmmm…

Later that day…  
"OK," Yanick was explaining, "We're locking most of the doors on Deck 12 open so we can use several rooms, y'know, open things up a bit. Both mess halls, both crew lounges, the arboretum, the library, two holodecks the Ambassador's Club-"  
"The what?" Stafford asked.  
"The fitness facilities," Yanick said, "Remember? Horton renamed them like 6 months ago,"  
"Oh yeah," Stafford grumbled, "that's why I stopped going,"  
"And we have one of the cargo bays prepared for the younger children," Yanick finished, "Of course, the rest of the crew is a bit annoyed, y'know with having their rec facilities taken over-"  
"Throw a few kegs of beer in the shuttlebay and pull the mechanical bull out of storage," Stafford grumbled, "That should keep them happy,"  
Yanick started tapping at her padd.  
"I was kidding," Stafford said.  
"Oh. Well, maybe if we skip the bull but throw a keggar…" Yanick started thinking.  
"Whatever keeps them happy," Stafford said, "Now, I only have an hour before everything starts. I'm going to go get ready,"  
"Velora to Stafford," chirped his comm-badge.  
"Stafford here,"  
"Your grandmother is missing!" Velora wailed.

"OK everybody, calm down," Stafford tried to say. His aunts and uncles, Claurice, Velora, Lillian, Mitchell and Gweneth, along with his father, had come together to find out what had happened to their mother.  
Nobody paid any attention to him.  
"I told you we should have just held the whole thing on Earth," Velora was saying, "expecting Mom to travel all the way out here, what were you thinking?"  
"Not everybody is lucky enough to live on Mom's back doorstep!" Gweneth shot back, "We picked Starbase 45 because it was the most convenient for everybody!"  
"This ship is a deathtrap," Mitchell cut in, "Did you read the news story about the refit? 50 years old and they put it into service…"  
"Hey," Greg said, not really sounding angry, "that's my son's ship you're talking about!"  
Stafford quickly reflected, trying to remember when, if ever, he'd actually seen his father get really angry. Nothing came to mind. Well, time to show him how it's done.  
"QUIET DOWN!" Stafford shouted as loudly as possible.  
There was silence for a moment.  
"What do you think you're-"  
"Don't you take that tone of voice with me!"  
"Little respect for your elders-"  
"There's only so many places she could be on a starship!" Stafford said, ignoring their protests and hoping he wouldn't regret it later, "We'll take a look around and she'll turn up in no time,"  
"For all we know she could be lying dead of a heart attack somewhere!" Velora said, sounding frantic.  
"No, she's fine," Claurice held up a small handheld device, "She has a bio-scanner implant, remember? We'd know if there was something wrong,"  
"Too bad Sylvia isn't around," Stafford sighed, "She'd be a big help around now,"  
"Who is this Sylvia person anyway?" Greg asked, "It's driving your mother insane!"  
"Dad, can we talk about that later?" Stafford groaned. He tapped his comm-badge, "Stafford to T'Parief,"  
There was a pause.  
"Captain," T'Parief's voice came back, "I am somewhat indisposed at the moment. Perhaps Lieutenant Stern could help you?"  
"Uh, OK," Stafford shrugged, "Stafford to Stern. We have a missing person. Have all security personnel start searching the ship. Subject is a little old lady, grey hair, around 5 foot 2…oh hell, why am I bothering? Just tell them to look for my grandmother. It's not like we have a lot of 90 year old-ladies running around the ship,"  
"Uh, yes sir," Stern's voice came back, sounding slightly confused.  
"You're not putting your best man on the case?" Lillian asked, "Why not?"  
"Uh, he's more like my best lizard," Stafford said, "But Stern can do it,"  
"Chris, I don't think I like the way you're handling this," Lillian said, "I would think that given the severity of the situation-"  
My God Stafford thought to himself, It's like having Fifebee around. Only with earrings  
"Aunt Lillian," Stafford said, "Everybody. I know how important Grandma is to the family. Without her we wouldn't be anywhere near as close as we are. But trust me: we're on a Federation starship in friendly territory. If she'd taken one of your ships, we'd know it. If she'd accidentally blown herself out an airlock, we'd know about it. We'll find her!"  
"BLOWN OUT AN AIRLOCK?" Claurice shrieked.  
"Wrong comparison," Stafford winced, "Look, the reunion is supposed to start in 15 minutes. I'm sure she'll turn up. Why don't you head down there?"  
"Don't be ridiculous," Velora said, "We're joining the search!"

Elsewhere…

"Are you sure this is wise?"  
"I know exactly what I'm doing. Have a little trust in me, dear,"  
"But the reunion. Won't everybody be worried?"  
"A little panic never heard anybody, dear," Grandma Stafford said, "Now, go stir the pot for a few minutes while I slice these carrots,"  
They worked for several more moments.  
"It is starting to smell really good," T'Parief admitted as he stirred…well, he wasn't sure what he was stirring. But it smelled good.  
"Here," the Captain's grandmother pulled something out of a stasis bin, "try some of this while we're waiting for this to boil,"  
He eyed the slimy, slightly green jelly. Some kind of meat appeared to be embedded in the slippery material. It was the kind of food, he mused, that would turn the stomachs of most humans.  
It looked fantastic to him. He ate it, feeling it slide down his throat.  
"Delicious," he said, "What is it called?"  
"Headcheese," she said.  
"An interesting name,"  
At that moment the door to T'Parief's quarters burst open and Stafford came in, along with one of his aunts. Velcro? No, Velora.  
"See? Your science hologram was right!" Velora said, "Tracking her bio-sensor led us right to her!"  
Velora marched up to T'Parief and put her hands on her hips.  
"Just what do you think you were doing?"  
Stafford took a moment to admire the sheer bravery that it took to go up against the huge, fanged security chief.  
"I, er, that is, I," T'Parief seemed at a loss for words, surprising Stafford even further.  
"I wanted to learn to cook," he said.  
"Really?" Stafford asked, eyebrows nearly up to his hairline.  
"He's a better learner than you are," Grandma Stafford said, her eyes shining, "He'll eat almost anything! Although," she frowned, "we usually throw the fish guts out for the cats instead of eating them,"  
T'Parief pushed the bowl of fish guts he'd been snacking on behind a stack of dishes, hoping nobody else had seen them. They didn't give him the same wonderful feelings chocolate did, but they sure tasted better.  
"Well, no harm done, right?" Stafford said lightly.  
Velora shook her head.  
"No, no I suppose not," she said, "But next time, tell us where you're going!"  
"Oh really Velora," Grandma Stafford said, "We're on a Federation starship in friendly territory. What did you think I was going to do, blow myself out an airlock?"

Two days later…

"By sweetie," Catherine said, giving Stafford the final hug in a series of about 15 good-bye hugs, "Next time you're near Earth make sure you drop by!"  
"Yes, Mother,"  
"And that doctor of yours is such a nice girl," Catherine went on, "I really think you should think about seeing her more often,"  
"No, Mother," Stafford said firmly.  
"Well come on!" she went on, "You can't be single forever! You need a nice girl in your life!"  
"Yes Mom," Stafford sighed.  
As Stafford said goodbye to various relatives, his father pulled him aside.  
"OK Chris," he said, "You owe me an explanation. Who is this Sylvia we kept hearing about?"  
"Oh boy," Stafford sighed, "Look, do you promise not to tell Mom?"  
"Sure," Greg shrugged.  
"Well," Stafford wasn't sure how to best explain it, "OK, One of my officers sort of programmed the ship's computer to act like Mom. Only there were some glitches, some malfunctions and some alien technology involved later on and she kinda sort became self-aware. She's off with our Chief Engineer right now on assignment, but," Stafford shrugged, "Well, you know that saying about everybody having a twin in the universe? Well, now Mom really does have one,"  
Greg's eyebrows were near his hairline. His mouth opened and closes several times, but no sound emerged.  
Finally, he said, "So your mother's 'twin' is a starship computer?"  
"Well," Stafford said, "Sort of. More like a sister, I would think. Since Sylvia sort of has her own personality now,"  
"Well," Greg crossed his arms, "At least the next time your mother says she's getting fat I can tell her she's about a hundred million tonnes lighter than her sister,"  
"Don't you dare!" Stafford snapped, "It's bad enough having one of them nagging me at a time! Can you imagine what would happen if they started comparing notes?"  
"Good point," Greg chuckled.  
"Greg!" Catherine called, "Hurry up! If we're not out of here in 10 minutes we'll never make it to the Starbase 45 in time for me to get my shopping done!"  
Stafford checked his chrono.  
"Uh, their shopping level doesn't close for another 5 hours," he said, "And Starbase 45 is only about half an hour away,"  
"I know," Greg sighed.  
"Bye, Dad!" Stafford grinned, "Have fun!"

Stafford walked into Unbalanced Equations, noting how empty it seemed without dozens of relatives milling around. He found his senior staff milling around the bar, the seats they'd normally occupy having been taken by the science team.  
"Hey all," he said.  
"So are we finally down to just one Stafford?" Jall asked.  
"Yup," he said, "But c'mon, there's something I need to show you all,"  
He led the senior staff to Cargo Bay 1, the largest cargo bay, where he'd already called in the day shift, the graveyard shift, support staff and dozens of other crewmembers. Even though only about half of the crew was actually there, the bay was packed.  
"Ok, ladies and gents," Stafford said loudly, standing in front of a dark curtain that hid one wall of the bay from view, "I know it's been a tough few days, what with all the relatives and all. And they wanted to thank you in their own special way for your patience and hospitality. So, here you go,"  
He tapped a control, dropping the curtain and revealing row upon row of stasis units. Roast beef, gravy, Yorkshire pudding, casseroles, baked fish, cabbage rolls, smorgie, pupankia, and dozens upon dozens of perogies and various other dishes. Enough, in fact, to feed the entire crew.  
"What is this?" T'Parief asked.  
"This," Stafford said happily, "Is a quaint little human custom. We call them 'leftovers'. Dig in!"

Later on…

Stafford collapsed into his command chair, massaging his full stomach. Yanick was sprawled in her helm chair, while T'Parief leaned heavily against the tactical rail.  
"Captain?" Jall called from Ops.  
"Yes, Lieutenant?"  
"Your family can visit any time they want," Jall said.  
"I second that," T'Parief said firmly, "your Grandmother's headcheese is divine,"  
"Eww," Stafford said, "you actually ate that stuff?"  
"It," T'Parief growled slightly, "is divine,"  
"Captain," Jall called, rubbing his swollen belly, "We're being hailed. It's - urp – Admiral Tunney,"  
"On screen," Stafford ordered.  
Tunney appeared on the screen, looking nervous.  
"Is she gone?" he asked.  
"Who?" Stafford asked.  
"Your aunt!" Tunney hissed, "that she-devil that nearly chewed my arm off until I agreed to delay your mission for this stupid reunion!"  
"Oh, yeah, she's," Stafford paused as his stomach shifted, "all gone,"  
"Good," Tunney straightened in his seat, "Then you're all set to end your little vacation and get back to work?"  
Stafford, Jall, Yanick and T'Parief exchanged glances as the large amounts of food they'd eaten abruptly shifted in their stomachs again.  
"BRAAAAAP!"

End

Who? Why? Really? Those are the questions being asked aboard the USS Stallion in the aftermath of an Orion attempt to kidnap Sylvia. They're also the same questions beings asked in regards to which woman will finally land the freshest meat on the ship: Simon Jeffery. Found out the answers next time on Star Traks: Silverado!


	4. Sex in the Starship

Star Traks: Silverado

3.4 "Sex in the Starship"

Captain's Log, Stardate 58185.2:

"It's been over two weeks now since Lt. Commander Jeffery and 'Lieutenant Fifebee' arrived on the Stallion and I really must that they've done a great job of working out some of our kinks. We're currently patrolling near Shelliak space, which is kinda cool. Now that our weapons actually work, Starfleet is giving us some more dangerous assignments. On the other hand, the Shelliak are so xenophobic there's no way in hell they'd cross the border anyway. And if they did, it wouldn't matter what kind of ship we were in; they'd kick our asses anyway. So there isn't really any point in us being here."  
"Back to the original topic, Mr. Jeffery has been fitting right in with the crew,"

Captain's Personal Log:

"I've got to get my hands on Mr. Jeffery before Sinclair or Terenth do. And the rumors about Ensign Kukarudz turned out to be true; she tried to seduce him in a Jefferies tube last night. Jeffery can only hold out so long before he cracks, and when he does it's going to be with me!"

"OK, 'Fifebee'," Jeffery said, buried in the holodeck computer interface, "Can you try it again?"  
Sylvia, firmly seated in the Stallion's computer core, tried initiating the holodeck. When the Stallion had been attacked by Orions, the aggressive aliens had claimed to be after the holographic Lieutenant Fifebee, not realizing that it was actually Sylvia aboard the Stallion. As part of their plans to keep Sylvia safe from further attempts, Simplot and Jeffery had decided to work with that. After all, somebody trying to steal a hologram wouldn't be very interested in a bio-neural gel pack buried in the computer core.  
"Simon, you need to connect the ODN data shunt to the secondary port," Sylvia said, "The primary one seems to be corroded,"  
"If ye say so," Jeffery grumbled. There was a click as he made the requested change, "All done,"  
There was a hum as the holodeck powered up, the display panel near the door flickering to life.  
"It's about time, white boy," Bianca Sinclair, Operations Officer said, "I've been waiting for my holodeck reservation all week!"  
"Yer lucky to have a holodeck installed on a Constitution-class ship," Jeffery said, "What did ye have to give up to make room for this thing?"  
"The bowling alley and two suites of guest quarters," Sylvia cut in promptly, "According to the original schematics,"  
"We'll have the smaller unit done by tomorrow," Jeffery told Sinclair. Smaller. Right. About the size of a broom closet.  
"Whatever," Sinclair said, scrolling through the available holo-programs, "Hmmm. What am I in the mood for tonight? Klingon men are great for muscles and macho attitudes, but those Deltans really know how to please a girl,"  
"W-what?" Jeffery stammered.  
"On the other hand," Sinclair let her eyes move slowly up and down Jeffery's frame, "There's something to be said for a cute, young engineer,"  
"Uh, Ah have to go, um, fix something," Jeffery said, "Bye!"  
Sinclair crossed her arms over her large chest, annoyed.  
"You can run, white boy," she said to herself, "But you cannot hide,"

First Officer Iron Kren sat at the Environmental controls on the Stallion's bridge. Why, he wondered for the millionth time, had nobody taken the time to install a second command chair on the ship's bridge? He was First Officer, he deserved a seat in the center of power.  
The turbolift doors hissed open and Simon Jeffery emerged. He took a quick look around, avoiding the gazes of Captain Simplot, Lieutenant Tereneth and that blond Ensign at the Master Situation display that kept giving him the eye. He sat next to Kren.  
"Is it me," he said in a low voice, "Or are the women on this ship really aggressive,"  
Kren raised an eyebrow.  
"You've been here for over two weeks, Commander," Kren said, "And you're only figuring that out now?"  
"Well," Jeffery shrugged, "Ah noticed that the Captain and that Herma-thingy seemed a little, uh, friendly. But it's getting to point where-"  
"Where you can't walk down the corridors without being hit on?" Kren said.  
"Aye,"  
"You are the 'fresh meat'," Kren said, "Get used to it. Now, on the topic of Sylvia,"  
"I thought we were calling her Fifebee," Jeffery said, "Y'know, to keep up the illusion that the hologram is here,"  
"Yes," Kren said, "I've been thinking about that. How are we to convince anybody we have a hologram if the ship doesn't have shipwide holo-emitters?"  
"Simplot and I talked about that," Jeffery said, "We figure that's why she's speaking through the comm system. Cuz of that,"  
"Oh," Kren frowned, "And nobody bothered to tell me?"  
"Ah guess we kinda forgot," Jeffery shrugged.  
"I should think that I should be informed of these things," Kren said crossly, "Regulation 23 paragraph B: 'The First Officer should be kept informed of all items of significance in the day to day-"  
"We forgot, man," Jeffery said, "It's not like we did it on purpose!"  
"Oh Mr. Jeffery," Simplot called, her voice chiming like a bell, "Could you come by my quarters later this afternoon? I'm having some trouble with my replicator again,"  
"Uh, yes Cap'n," Jeffery said, making a beeline back to the turbolift.

"Is the coast clear?" Jeffery whispered.  
"All the way to Engineering," Sylvia replied.  
Jeffery was standing discreetly by the turbolift on the engineering deck. Several of the female crewmembers had taken to hanging out just outside of Engineering in the hopes of catching Jeffery on his way in or out. Easing around a support strut he looked both ways, then moved quickly down the corridor.  
"Heya, handsome," a silky voice called.  
"Uh, hi," Jeffery gulped, smiling weakly at the attractive redhead who had popped out of a side passage.  
"So, I hear you're going to be with us for a few more weeks," she said, "My name's Kelly. You know, a few of us are having a little get-together today on the rec deck and I'd love for you to come with me,"  
"I, uh," Jeffery gulped, "I have to, um, recalibrate the lateral sensors,"  
"Really?" Kelly pulled out a padd, "Cuz the maintenance schedule doesn't say anything about that,"  
"He'd love to go," Sylvia cut in, "He'll pick you up at 7,"  
"Great," Kelly smiled, brushing against Jeffery as she left, "I can hardly wait,"  
Jeffery waited until Kelly vanished into the turbolift.  
"Sylvia, uh, Fifebee," he snapped, "What do ye think yer doing?"  
"Clearly," Sylvia said, "you can't take care of your own romantic life. So you need a little help,"  
"Ah SO do not!" Jeffery snarled, tapped the control to open the heavy blast doors leading into Engineering,"  
"S-so do not what?" Lieutenant Josh Shurgore asked. He was trying to recalibrate an ODN junction but his hand kept shaking.  
"Don't need help with women," Jeffery said.  
"You sure don't," Ensign Menuk cut in, "They're all over him like flies on a garbage can,"  
"Thanks," Jeffery said dryly.  
"And yet he refuses to go out with any of them," Sylvia said, "If you're not careful they're going to think you're not into women at all,"  
Jeffery looked up.  
"Do ye think that would work?" he asked.  
"Arrgh!" if Sylvia had had hands, she would have thrown them up in exasperation.  
"What you n-n-need to do," Shurgroe said, "Is sleep with one of them. Do it really, really badly. They'll t-t-talk about it behind your b-b-back and the r-r-rest will leave you alone,"  
"Great," Jeffery said, "So the entire ship would end up doubting my manhood," he rubbed his forehead, "That doesn't seem any better than fakin' a case of the queers,"  
"Why are you so dead set against the ladies on this ship anyway?" Menuk asked, "I mean, I know Tereneth has that whole Hermat thing going, but s/he is AMAZING in the sack,"  
"S-S-Sinclair isn't bad either," Shurgroe said.  
"You guys know from experience?" Jeffery raised his eyebrows.  
"S-S-Sure," Shurgroe said, "You think they just became sex-crazed vixens the d-day you arrived?"  
"Ah think if ye don't take yer hypo soon," Jeffery said, "Ah'm gonna cram it up your behind!"  
There was silence for a moment.  
"Soo," Menuk finally said, "You could always have yourself changed into a woman for the rest of your stay.  
"Ah'm NOT willing to go that far to scare off these crazy women!" Jeffery snapped.  
"Why are you so dead-set against them?" Shurgroe asked, his hypo hissing as he held it to his arm, "I mean, it's not like they're ugly,"  
"Ah," Jeffery paused. Just how could he explain the delicate situation with Wowryk?  
"His ex is going to tear him apart if she sees him again," Sylvia broke in, "But if he plays around and she finds out, she'll kill him too. Plus he still wants to get back together with her,"  
"Thank ye, Sylvia," Jeffery said, "And how do ye know she's gonna tear me apart?"  
"I have access to her psyche profile," Sylvia said simply.  
"At least if you take advantage of the situation here you can die happy," Menuk shrugged, going back to his examination into a malfunctioning plasma relay, "Personally, I think you should go for Captain Simplot. I hear she's been studying that Tantric stuff,"  
"He has a date with Kelly tonight," Sylvia said.  
"Kelly?" Shurgroe frowned, "Never heard of her,"  
"Red hair, about this tall," Jeffery drew a hand up around his neck.  
"Probably just haven't met her yet," Menuk shrugged.

Penelope yanked off the red wig she'd been wearing the instant she had returned to the small corner of the cargo deck she currently called 'home'. It was little more than an unused cargo pod. Unused, apparently, because it was wedged up against one wall and jammed between two support struts to the point where removing it was quite a problem. Still, as long as nobody came down to try to remove it, it would be secure.  
She'd been laying low for the better part of two weeks now, waiting for the right time to snatch the hologram. She had planned to snatch it right after her arrival, but those idiot Orions had attacked the ship and put everybody on guard. Now, finally, they were starting to relax again. But for the life of her she couldn't locate the hologram's program. She'd checked the holographic memory core, such as it was, and checked for holo-programs in the main computer as well. It had taken her most of the first week just to crack her way into the system, and while she'd learned that the Stallion's crew had an almost unhealthy obsession with certain…nocturnal activates, she hadn't found her treasure. And it was really getting on her nerves. With the bounty on the hologram's artificial intelligence she could finally afford to have that weeklong getaway at the Medusan Pleasure Spas.  
She knew the hologram was still around; the crew was still talking about her. And the short engineer was the key.

Simplot, Sinclair, Annerson and Tereneth were seated at a table in the Wreck Deck, the Stallions recreational center. While the Constitution-class ships didn't have modern style bars or lounges, they did come with enormous, 2 level recreation areas. Since the ship had been designed before holodecks it had taken a lot more space to keep the crew from going space-crazy. Simplot loved having the big open space at the front port side of the saucer. It really did have an open feeling to it. The only problem she had was that everything had to be crammed in there. They'd setup a bar in one corner, along with several tables. The center of the deck had a bunch of old 23-rd century gaming tables, still done up in that ridiculous plush red that had been all the rage back then. The area near the windows had been converted into a sort of library. Unfortunately, the noise from the bar tended to prevent anybody from actually enjoying a good read. Also, any time the ship hit turbulence, books and padds had a tendency to fly from the shelves, turning the area into a disaster.  
"Who is that handsome young man," Simplot asked, pointing to a dark-haired male.  
"Who?" Tereneth's head pivoted around, trying to spot the male in question.  
"You just missed him," Simplot sighed, "He just ducked back into the corridor. I could swear I've never seen him before though,"  
"You know," Sinclair said, her Caribbean accent clipping her words slightly, "I could swear that I saw a young woman yesterday I had never seen before either,"  
"Weird," Simplot shrugged and turned to the waiter, "A martini. Any kind, you pick,"  
"Yes, Captain," the waiter smiled, "And for you?"  
"Why so formal, Craig," Tereneth asked with a smile, "I thought we were past that by now,"  
"I just want to be sure my customers are treated like the high-class ladies they are," Craig grinned back.  
"Such a charmer," Annerson shook her head.  
"But he gets an 'A' for effort," Simplot pointed out.  
"Why don't you drop by my quarters later and we can discuss your final grades?" Tereneth suggested.  
"You're on," Craig nodded, heading back to the bar.  
"Hey!" Annerson called, "I wanted a beer!"  
"On it's way!" Craig called back.  
"What a nice young man," Sinclair observed. She turned to Tereneth, "You seem to have him well-trained anyway,"  
"What can I say?" s/he spread her arms, "It's a gift,"  
"That 'gift' doesn't seem to be working too well with our engineer friend," Simplot observed.  
"That boy has issues," Sinclair said sharply, "Either that or he doesn't like girls,"  
"That's not what Sylvia tells me," Annerson said.  
"You've been buddying up with Sylvia?" Simplot asked, interested, "What's the scoop on Jeffery?"  
"Well," Tereneth leaned in, "She wouldn't give me whole story. Something about End-User Privacy Agreements. Or something like that. But she did say that Jeffery is a very devoted man, when it comes to relationships. And that his last girlfriend was lucky to have him,"  
"She said 'last girlfriend', as in 'no current girlfriend', right?" Simplot asked.  
"Yup,"  
"Goood. Then we just have to wear him down," she ginned at her companions, "Then wear him out!"

"Ah don't like this, Sylvia!" Jeffery said as he approached the quarters Kelly had specified, "This is all yer fault!"  
"You know," Sylvia said crossly, "If I had gotten Chris a date, he would have been grateful,"  
"Ah think at this point Chris would be grateful for a date with a Horta," Jeffery grumbled.  
"Look, it's just a nice, innocent little date. No expectations, no commitments, no secret shrine to engineers in the back closet, nothing," Sylvia said, "And if you happen to end up engaged in coitus then so much the better. That is, if you remember how at this point,"  
"It's not something Ah'm likely to forget, ye know,"  
"Really?" Sylvia sounded surprised, "I've been studying human mating a great deal. There are so many techniques, so many erogenous zones that must be memorized. Plus, you must identify your mate's particular likes and dislikes. For example, some women enjoy the act of cunni-"  
"LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!" Jeffery said loudly, covering his ears and drawing an odd look from a passing crewman, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"  
"Well of course you can't, silly!" Sylvia snapped, "You have your fingers in your ears!"  
"Look, can ye just stop with that kind of talk?" Jeffery requested, removing the appendages, "It's just messed up!"  
"Fine, if you say so,"  
"Who are you talking to?"  
Jeffery spun around to see Kelly standing there. She was wearing a standard off-duty uniform. He had to admit, she looked great. She had a very fit, athletic figure.  
Probably has the firmest bum on the whole ship Jeffery caught himself thinking.  
"Uh, just er, Fifebee," he said, "Y'know. The hologram. The one that talks through the comm cuz there aren't any holoemitters…"  
"Oh, yes," Kelly said, "The AI. Hello Fifebee!" she called, waving innocently.  
"Hello, dear," Sylvia called back, "Simon, I just need to have a word with-"  
"Not now, Fifebee," Jeffery said, "We'll talk later,"  
"But Simon!"  
"Later!"  
Jeffery listened for the faint click that would tell him Sylvia had turned off the comm channel. It came quickly.  
"She sounds a little jealous," Kelly smiled.  
"Oh, Ah dunno," Jeffery smiled weakly, "She's just a bit, er, possessive?"  
"Well," Kelly looped her arm around Jeffery's and moved a little closer, "She should be jealous," Kelly giggled.  
Jeffery gulped.  
"Where, uh, are we going?" he asked. They weren't headed to the mess hall or to the Wreck Deck. In fact, they seemed to be getting close to the computer core.  
"It's a private function," she said.  
"It sure is, mate,"  
Kelly and Jeffery came around the corner, only to be confronted by a dark-haired male. Jeffery's first thought was that the guy looked like trouble. Perhaps it was the phaser he held that gave that impression. 'Kelly'/Penelope's first thought was Damn, he's hot  
"Jeffery to security," Jeffery tapped his comm-badge, pushing 'Kelly' behind him.  
"Won't work, mate," the guy said, his accent very Australian, "Ah took the liberty of disablin' yer badge. Now, hand over the AI, nice and easy,"  
"The whot?" Jeffery asked, trying to look confused.  
"The hologram!" the man grumbled, brandishing an isolinear chip, "You upload her here, now, or Ah start blowing holes in yer little friend here,"  
"Ok, Ok," Jeffery said, holding his hands up, "But she won't fit. Ye'll need a bigger chip,"  
"Wrong answer," the attacker lifted his phaser, aimed and fired.  
But Penelope wasn't there. She'd dropped as soon as he moved, her hand yanking a tiny weapon from her boot. She fired the small beam, wounding the attacker's arm. Cursing, he fled, ducking into a Jefferies tube.  
"After him!" Jeffery cried, getting ready to run.  
"NOBODY MOVE!"  
Lt. Commander Hurken and 4 security officers rushed around the corner, brandishing phasers.  
"Thank God yer here!" Jeffery said, "We just got jumped by this crazy Aussie guy and-"  
"Drop your weapon," Hurken said flatly, pointing his phaser at Penelope.  
"What are ye doin'?" Jeffery asked, "She's-"  
"Not a member of the Stallion's crew," Sylvia cut in, "I caught a good glimpse of her on a functional internal scanner. She isn't even part of Starfleet!"  
"Kelly," Jeffery turned to her, only to find that her tiny weapon was pointed right at him, "What the f-"  
"Anybody moves and the engineer gets it," Penelope said, her voice a cold counterpart to the girlish tones Jeffery had heard earlier.  
"You'll never get out of here," Hurken spat, "Even with a hostage,"  
"I know," Penelope smiled. She abruptly stomped down hard with one foot, triggering a small device that generated a hologram between her and the guards, obscuring her position. The device burnt out after 4 seconds, but by that time she'd dived down into the Jefferies tube, hoping that whoever the other attacker was, he had used it as an escape route for a good reason.

"INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!"  
The computer warning repeated, well, repeatedly.  
"Hurken!" Simplot's voice came over the comm, "What's going on?"  
"We've got two intruders!" he said tersely, "Female, about 160cm tall, dark hair under a red wig. Male, about 180cm tall, dark hair. Both were trying to get their hands on the AI,"  
"Can you catch them?"  
"Maybe, if I can spend more time chasing them and less time on witty banter," he wheezed, starting to tire as he crawled through the Jefferies tube.

Simplot, Gonzalez and Kren burst onto the bridge from the starboard turbolift and took their stations. Gonzalez had lipstick smeared all over his face and Simplot's hair was up in a towel. Kren on the other hand was still in his uniform.  
"Anything on internal sensors?" Simplot demanded.  
Gonzalez tapped away on his panel.  
"We still have a lot of dead zones," he said, "Sensor coverage of the Jefferies tube where the incident was reported ends right before a major junction. They're long gone."  
"Damn," Simplot cursed, pacing across the bridge. She turned to look at Gonzalez, "Who was she?"  
"Captain," Kren cut in, "With so many of the sensors down there's no way-"  
"No, I meant the woman you were with," Simplot cut Kren off, "Who was it tonight?"  
"Lieutenant Harris," Gonzalez replied, trying to wipe the lipstick off his face.  
"Again?" Simplot looked surprised, 'That's like the 5th time this month,"  
Gonzalez shrugged.  
"She's worth it," he shrugged.  
"Not that I don't love hearing about the live and times of Gonzalez' Bedroom," Kren said dryly, "But we have armed and dangerous INTRUDERS LOOSE ON THE SHIP!"  
"Right," Simplot said, "And right now we have to wait for security to track them down. Not really a whole lot we can do at the moment,"  
"We could be restoring sensors-" Kren started.  
"Engineering is on it," Gonzalez cut in.  
"Dispatch search teams to adjoining sectors-"  
"Already done," Simplot said.  
"Interview Sylvia! She spotted the intruder after all!" Kren was beginning to turn a rather unpleasant shade of red.  
"Security is taking care of it," Ensign Shoal called from the helm.  
Fuming, Kren stalked to the Environmental Control console.  
"Fine!" he snapped, "I'll just sit here and try to make myself useful!"  
Tereneth and Sinclair exchanged glances as quiet returned to the bridge.  
"Sooo," Simplot said finally, eagerly turning towards Gonzalez, "Did you at least get to second base before the alert sounded?"  
"Shields up!" Gonzalez barked.  
"Shields up?" Simplot frowned, "Can't say I've heard of that. Is that when the woman decides-"  
Simplot was cut off as the ship crashed, something impacting against the defensive screens Gonzalez had barely gotten up in time.  
"We're under attack!" Ensign Shimko cried from Tactical, "Klingon Bird-of-Prey! She's coming around for another pass!"  
"Arm weapons!" Simplots called, her expression turning serious, "Return fire! Get the rest of the senior staff to their stations!"  
"We could hail them," Kren suggested.  
"We could," Simplot agreed, "But while we're asking them nicely to stop shooting us, they're just going to shoot us some more!"  
"Firing phasers," Simko reported.  
They watched on the main screen as the twin beams lanced out and hit the Klingon vessel amidships. The shields crackled and the hawk-like ship wobbled off course before swooping around for another run.  
"Shields are taking damage," Simko said, "Can I use the torpedoes now?"  
"We got those fixed, right?" Simplot asked Kren.  
"What, NOW you want my advise?" he snapped.  
"I'm just having trouble keeping track of all the work-"  
"Torpedoes away," Simko said. Sure enough, two glowing red torpedoes were flying towards the enemy vessel. A shot from the Klingon ship destroyed the first torpedo and for a moment it looked like the second was going to miss. But the torpedo reacquired its target at the last minute and hit the green ship just aft of the bridge.  
"They're retreating," Simko stated.  
"I don't know why," Gonzalez said, "We were pretty evenly matched. Doesn't sound like Klingon behavior to just take off like that,"  
"No," Kren said, "Sounds more like somebody's gotten their hands on a Klingon ship,"  
"More bounty hunters?" Simplot asked.  
"Probably," Kren agreed, "This makes what, 4 now?"  
"Somebody must really want 'Fifebee'," Simplot mused.

"What do you mean I'm not after the hologram," Penelope hissed softly but angrily into her portable communications unit, "I've been hiding here for weeks and now that my cover's been blown I'm this far," she held her thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart, "from being caught and you're telling me THE HOLOGRAM ISN'T HERE!"  
"We intercepted a transmission between Silverado and Starfleet," her controller said, unruffled, "Containing several scientific survey reports with Fifebee's name on it. Clearly she never left the ship," he clasped hid hands in front of him, "We suspect there is a second AI, possibly an android or-"  
"The computer," Penelope spat, "All along, it was the computer,"  
"Well, that's possible," the controller conceded, "but-"  
"No, you just don't get it," she informed him, "They've been pretending the hologram has been here to hide an AI in the computer," she looked thoughtful, "which means they're on to me. Or have been on to me,"  
"Or there may be another bounty hunter on board," the controller suggested.  
"Speaking of which, how many more of these attempts can I expect?"  
"Since the Orion Syndicate added their own bounty?" the controller shrugged, "Plenty,"  
"Then get me out of here," Penelope said, "Send one of your real drones in here. Section 31 doesn't pay me enough for this,"  
"You will fulfill your contract," the controller said, remaining calm, "Section 31 doesn't take kindly to freelances who default on their obligations. We can make things very, very unpleasant for you,"  
Penelope swallowed.  
"I have to move quickly," she insisted, "things are getting out of hand,"  
"The Banshee isn't far from you," the controller said, "Get whatever artificial life form is on that ship and signal them when you're ready for extraction,"  
The screen went blank.  
Penelope stared at it for a moment.  
"I hate working for those people," she said to herself. Sure, they had the best in high-tech toys, but they really hated to share them. She should have personal cloaking fields, portable memory wipes and more! But nooo. She was a freelance agent. Outsourced help. Nothing but second-rate crap for her.  
Time to get to work.

Timothy Suade peered carefully around the corner as he eased his way down the maintenance corridor deep in the Stallion's secondary hull. He'd already sabotaged the internal sensors in the area. Since half of the ships internal sensors weren't working as it was, he'd guessed (correctly) that nobody would notice another bank of sensors going down.  
Of course, now that the crew knew they'd been infiltrated those would be the areas they'd be searching first.

"I'm scanning as fast as I can, Captain," Sinclair reported from Ops, "but we have more sensor outages than green snakes in a sugar-cane tree,"  
"And why weren't THOSE fixed?" Kren asked.  
Sinclair frowned.  
"The sensor outages or the green snakes?"  
Kren grumbled unpleasantly.  
"L-Low priority?" Shurgroe gulped.  
"Who would have expected bounty hunters to target this ship, anyway?" Simplot gave a sort of weary smile, "C'mon Kren, we know we have problems. There's no point trying to place blame,"  
"Sylvia, any chance ye can give us a hand?" Jeffery asked.  
"I'm trying, Simon," Sylvia said, sounding tired, "I'm tracking comm-badges and life-signs within sensor coverage, but I can't do anything about the dead areas,"  
"Our security sweeps will focus on those areas," Hurken called from Tactical, "Just be sure to have the bionic gossip machine send me a list of sections,"  
"Bionic gossip machine," Jeffery mused, "Ah'll have to tell Chris about that one,"  
"Chris?" Simplot asked.  
"Me best mate," Jeffery explained, "Back on Silverado,"  
"Mate?" Simplot almost seemed to sag. Tereneth and Sinclair looked up from their stations, "You mean you and he…"  
"Whot?" Jeffery frowned, then gasped as he realized what Simplot meant, "No, no! Not 'mate' like that! Mate like a friend! Buddy! Pal!"  
"Ohhh, he's your friend," Tereneth sighed in relief, "Good then. Friends are good,"  
"Way to miss an escape route, Simon," Sylvia chuckled softly.  
"Oh, don't start with me, Sylvia," Jeffery grunted.  
"AAAIIIEEEE!"  
"What the hell?' Jeffery and Simplot jumped to their feet, "What's that?"  
It was Sylvia screaming.  
"Somebody's accessing me!" Sylvia cried, "Rummaging through my files!"  
"Can you trace them?" Hurken snapped.  
"I'm having trouble focusing," Sylvia said, "Uuggghhhhh…." She groaned.  
"Shut down the computer core!" Jeffery snapped.  
"What?" Kren was aghast, "We'll be defenseless!"  
"That's what backup systems are for," Jeffery said quickly, "Hurry up and shut down the core before, before something happens to her!"  
Simplot nodded.  
"Shutting down the core," Sinclair said. Around the bridge display screens and control panels went dark. Just over half of them flickered back to life as backup systems kicked in.  
"We fixed the backups last week," Jeffery said grimly, "C'mon, Shurgroe, we gotta make sure Sylvia's OK,"

Jeffery and Shurgroe went directly to the section of the computer core housing Sylvia's gel-pack.  
"Did it occur to ye," Jeffery asked, "That we could be leading them right to Sylvia?"  
"Sounds to me like they already found her," Shurgroe replied, putting on an extra burst of speed. They flew through the doors to the tiny computer core control room and went immediately into the core section where Sylvia's container was still securely fastened to the rack of isolinear chips.  
"It's about time somebody got here," her voice came from the tiny speaker set into the box.  
"Are ye OK?" Jeffery asked  
"What happened?" Shurgroe added.  
"Somebody started a dump of my program!" Sylvia said, "It was very unpleasant, but I'm not hurt,"  
"Oh, thank God," Shurgroe breathed. Jeffery gave him an odd look.  
"By the way," Sylvia went on, "Could you tell me what my name is, young man?"  
"Simplot to Jeffery,"  
"Jeffery here," he was already tapping on a panel, trying to find what happened to Sylvia.  
"Hey handsome," Simplot was speaking quickly, "A small ship just detached from our lower hull and took off. Thought you should know,"  
"Don't let them get away!" Jeffery cried, "They've got Sylvia's memory!"

Simplot digested this new information and started snapping orders.  
"Tereneth, follow that ship! Try to mask us from their sensors!" she called, "Sinclair, bring the computer back online. Hurken, arm weapons. And somebody bring me, oh I don't know. I think I want a cup of peppermint tea. But the Wreck Deck had this really good raktijeeno the other day. Maybe I'll just have a low calorie shake. Yes, that's it,"  
"Pursuit course, yes ma'am,"  
"Computer core coming back online, Captain,"  
"Weapons armed,"  
"Low cal shake for the indecisive, weight obsessed lady, yes ma'am,"  
"Way to paraphrase," Tereneth smirked.  
Jeffery arrived on the bridge.  
"What happened?" Simplot asked.  
"Somebody managed to hack the computer core and downloaded Sylvia's memory files," Jeffery said, "Ah traced the access to an empty sector of the engineering hull, but security didn't find anything,"  
"What's the point of getting her memory?" Kren asked, "Aren't they after her?"  
"It looks like they tried to download all of her," Jeffery said, "But it dun work that way. Sylvia's a living being, ye can't just download her out of her gel-pack anymore than Ah could download ye from yer brain,"  
"So they just got the memories,"  
"Simon, who are all these people inside me?" Sylvia asked.  
"I've been at a few parties myself where I've had to ask that question," Tereneth said wistfully.  
"Just sit tight, Sylvia," Jeffery said, "We'll find the rest of ye,"  
Lieutenant Gonzalez piped up from his quiet corner of the bridge.  
"I'm only reading one life form on the fleeing ship," he reported, "They're pushing their engines hard, but it looks like we'll be able to keep up with them,"  
"Barely," Sinclair cut in, "We're at Warp 8. We're already past the maximum rated speed for this class of ship,"  
"As of 100 years ago, ye mean," Jeffery said. He looked around nervously, "Uh, right?"  
"I dunno," Simplot shrugged.  
"I hate to interrupt," Gonzalez went on, "But if there's only one thief over there, we still have another one on board!"  
"Shurgroe and I are workin' on that," Jeffery said, turning back to the turbolift.

Timothy Suade really wanted to pace.  
He knew it was a bad habit, and that it potentially revealed his mood to any adversaries that might be watching. But here in the private confines of his ship's cockpit he really, really wanted to pace.  
Too bad the cockpit wasn't big enough.  
"Who are you?" he demanded, "What's your name?"  
He'd taken the stolen AI files he'd downloaded from the Stallion and connected them to a secure, secondary computer on his ship. But the AI was remaining stubbornly silent.  
"Computer," he called.  
"READY," both the ship and the secondary computers responded.  
"No, I mean the secure computer," he reiterated.  
"READY," both computers replied.  
"OK, I mean the computer here in this second case!" he snapped.  
"READY," replied the indicated machine while the other computer grumbled to itself about lack of gratitude.  
"Interface with the AI files retrieved from the Stallion,"  
"INTERFACE COMPLETE,"  
"OK, good-"  
"No AI detected,"  
"WHAT?"  
"There is no AI detected in the indicated files,"  
"Then what are they?" he demanded.  
"The indicated files contain machine-code memory engrams," replied the computer.  
So, he didn't have the AI. But maybe he had something just as good.  
"Can you access them?"  
"Affirmative,"  
Information began to scroll down his display.

"He's headed for Scarborus 8," Tereneth reported, "I'm sure of it. There's a trading post there that's been known to associate with the Orion Syndicate,"  
"He's off to sell his ill-gotten wares," Simplot mused.  
"He c-c-can't sell them!" Shurgroe was almost frantic, looking around at the other officers that had gathered for the briefing, "Those memories are all that she is! It's like one of us having our minds stolen!"  
"Why are you so worked up over this?" Jeffery asked, his eyes narrowing.  
"I-I-I get worked up over everything," Shurgroe said, averting his eyes.  
"He really does," Dr. Annerson nodded in agreement.  
"Not like this," Gonzalez said, joining in the conversation, "If I didn't know any better I'd think he had a thing for her,"  
"N-n-n-n-n-"  
"Ye've got the hots for my computer!?" Jeffery snapped, "Are ye daft?"  
"Well," Gonzalez was looking thoughtful, "give her a holo-emitter and she could be anybody you wanted,"  
"You people are just sick!" Jeffery snapped, "It'd be like doing Chris's mother!"  
"Who's Chris?" Annerson asked, "And what does his mother have to do with anything?"  
"Our Captain," Jeffery said, "Sylvia's personality came from his mother,"  
"That's a little twisted, isn't it?" Kren asked.  
"Oh come on," Simplot shook her head, "Like we're in any position to judge?"  
"I am," Kren said coolly.  
"Really?" Simplot raised an eyebrown, "Maybe I should bring out the pictures we took of you the last time we took shore leave…"  
"You put something in my drink," Kren said, getting defensive.  
"Not that I don't care what horrible thing happened to Kren," Jeffery started, then paused, "Uh, actually…what happened to him?"  
"Nothing," Kren said, giving warning glances all around.  
"He started dancing on the table," Simplot said immediately, "We found him passed out naked in a corner the next day.  
"Uh, moving on," Jeffery said, "We are goin' to get the rest of Sylvia back, right?"  
"Yup," Simplot nodded, "Anybody got a plan?"  
Silence.  
"Anybody?" she looked around, "Don't be shy!"  
"Ah want to go home," Jeffery sighed.

Penelope tapped frantically at the computer panel. She knew now that the AI wasn't gone, since the responses to her access attempts were 'Sorry dear, accessed denied', rather than the more conventional 'Access Denied'. She'd been wondering about that before. But now something was different. Sneaking around the ship before she'd heard the AI, which she had assumed to be the hologram, speaking to various crewmembers. Even though she wasn't able to move as freely, what with the somewhat incompetent security squads combing the ship for her, she could still tell that the computer was being very quiet. The ship wasn't exactly quiet though, every now and then the hull groaned with what she believed to be the stress of high-warp travel.  
But what was going on?  
There was a barely perceptible lurch as the ship dropped out of warp.  
"All hands, this is the Captain," came a voice on the intercom, "We're entered orbit of Scarborus 8. Please stand by to repel boarders, in the event our assault is unsuccessful,"  
Assault? They must have learned that the bounty on the AI had Scarborus 8 as the delivery site. But how? The other bounty hunter must have made a grab for the AI, she realized. But what was in the computer now. A few leftover figments of personality? Or were they trying to trick her into believing the AI was still there? Obviously. After all, they knew she was there. Most likely they were setting a trap even as she spoke.  
"C'mon Sylvia, this way,"  
It was the engineer. And he was fleeing. With the AI? Must be, her name was Syvlia. Even as she watched he barely dodged a phaser blast. Had the ship been boarded already? She knew the Orion Syndicate had some very impressive ships, or maybe the Section 31 vessel had arrived.  
Jeffery ran down the corridor, pushing a cylindrical object ahead of him. Whatever it was, it was hovering on anti-gravs and encircled with a small railing. What looked like a small subspace transceiver was mounted on the top. Running behind Jeffery was an older woman with medium length brown hair. She looked a little out of breath, yet she wasn't breathing hard at all. A hologram!  
"Hurry up!" Jeffery snapped, "if they hit yer holo-relay you'll blink out in a second! Especially if yer cortical processor is damaged!"  
Penelope immediately switched into battle mode. They AI in the computer WAS a distraction. They were trying to escape with the real AI plugged into some kind of portable computer device!  
"We're almost at the shuttlebay!" Jeffery wheezed, pushing the device ahead of him. Penelope followed, leaving a stun-grenade behind to discourage pursuit.

"OK, let's go," Jeffery pushed the holo-relay into the back of the shuttlecraft Roan.  
"If you say so," the Sylvia hologram said mechanically.  
"Hold it, pretty boy,"  
Jeffery spun around. It was Kelly! Holding a phaser!  
"Kelly!" he gasped.  
"Penelope, actually," she corrected, "Now step away from the shuttle,"  
"Kelly, uh, Penny-" he was cut off as Penelope discharged her phaser, barely missing his groin as the beam went between his legs.  
"Not," she said sharply, "A nickname I care for," she took another step towards the shuttle, "Now, I'm not going to ask again. Step away from the shuttle and open the bay doors, or I kill you," she smiled, "Which I'd hate to do. You really are cute,"  
"What is WITH the women on this ship?" Jeffery sighed.  
"What's wrong with you?" Penelope counted, keeping the phaser pointed at Jeffery as he stepped away from the shuttle, "You could have had more action than a gigolo in a woman's prison. But nooo!"  
"Just shut up and go!" Jeffery fumed, tapping at the bay door controls.  
"Sure thing, stud," Penelope blew him a kiss as the shuttle hatch closed.  
Jeffery held the angry look on his face until the shuttle was clear of the bay.  
"Jeffery to Simplot," he said, "She fell for it,"  
He jogged to the runabout Niagra. Shurgroe, Hurken and nearly a dozen security guards were already waiting inside, ready to go.

"I'm tracking the signal from the holo-relay," Hurken said, "They're heading for a small settlement about 3 kilometers from the main trading post,"  
"Good thing they don't know that holo-relays need to stay linked to shipboard computers," Jeffery said.  
"Good thing we were able to slap this thing together on the way to this planet," Shurgroe said, "Just how did you know about these things anyway? I've never heard of anybody using a holoemitter in this way,"  
"Our holographic officer uses one when she leaves the ship," Jeffery explained, "Actually, she used it on the ship for quite a while too. We only got around to installing holoemitters when we found out that prolonged exposure to the holo-relay causes, er," he coloured, "impotence,"  
All the men in the shuttle turned slowly to glare at Jeffery.  
"Prolonged exposure," he said loudly, "We're fine!"  
"Is that why you won't hook up with any women?" Shurgroe asked quietly.  
"Nay!" Jeffery smacked him upside the head.

The building at the coordinates Suade had been instructed to arrive at was small and unassuming. The countryside was pleasant enough, he supposed. Not that he really cared for the outdoors. He was far more interested in who was inside and how much latinum they'd be giving him for his prize. He opened the door and stepped into gloomy darkness.  
"I've got what you wanted," Timothey Suade said, approaching the table where his clients sat.  
"You have the AI from the USS Silverado?" one of them asked.  
"I do," he lied. He couldn't see his clients; they always sat in the shadows. They were entitled to their privacy, he supposed. But he felt they were going to a bit of an extreme. Their voices had a mechanical sound to the, like they were using voice distorters or some kind of mechanical speech aids.  
"He's lying," a female voice cut in. Timothy turned to see the female he'd almost shot aboard the Stallion, "I have Silverado's AI."  
Timothy gulped. He had taken the downloaded memories and rigged him to his own computer's personality profile, hoping that would fool the buyers until he was long gone.  
"What an interesting dilemma," the voice came again. Timothy and Penelope could see movement in the shadows, "How could it possibly be that you both have the item we seek?"  
"I already told you," Penelope said, sounding annoyed, "He's lying! AI, come here! State your name!"  
A middle aged woman stepped forward.  
"I am Sylvia," she said, "Computer core AI for the USS Silverado,"  
"No," spoke the box Timothy had placed on the table, "I'm Sylvia!"  
"Oh my," sighed the voice, "this does pose a problem, doesn't it?"

Jeffery, Shurgroe, Hurken and the security guards had crept silently up to the small building. The security team was deploying a range of espionage devices while Jeffery peered through a pair of transpectral goggles.  
"Anything?" Jeffery asked Shurgroe as the latter tapped at a tricorder.  
"There's some kind of computer module in there," Shurgroe said, "don't know if it has Sylvia's memory engrams in it though,"  
"It must," Hurken said, "Why else sell it? Not all humans are as moronic as you free-for-all Starfleeters,"  
"You're in Starfleet too, you know,"  
"I can't make out anything on the buyers," Jeffery interrupted, "But both Penelope and that other guy are there," he frowned, "Looks like they're arguing about something,"  
"Check out that ship," Shurgroe pointed, "Looks kinda cramped, huh?"  
The ship in question was strangely shaped. A bulbous forward section gave way to a wide structure, almost reminding Jeffery of the plastic cone dogs used to wear to keep from licking wounds. From the aft protruded two small warp nacelles. There were rows of windows to account for at least 15 decks, but the entire ship only looked to be around 6 decks high.  
"The hatch is very small," Hurken pointed out, "We would never fit,"  
"I have audio," Ensign Simko reported.  
"Let's hear," Jeffery said.

"Perhaps the best solution," Suade said reasonably, "Is for you to purchase both units. You can then take whatever steps you wish to ensure their authenticity,"  
"We could," replied the buyer, "But we're feeling rather cheap at the moment. One of you is lying. Tell us, and we will let you leave with your life,"  
Neither moved.  
"Very well," sighed the voice, "We will simply kill you both then,"  
Before anybody could fire, both entrances to the building burst in and uniformed Starfleet security officers stormed in.  
"AMBUSH!" Penelope and Timothy shouted, grabbing for their weapons. Neither made it far before they were hit, flopping to the ground like dolls.  
"Get the hologram!" Jeffery ordered. No fewer than three officers charged for the slowly bobbing holo-relay.  
Bright green beams lanced out from the hidden buyers, stunning the officers. A projectile of some kind immediately lanced out, attaching to the holo-relay. The relay and the yet-unseen buyers disappeared in a storm of transporter sparks.  
"Clear!" snapped Simko,"  
"Clear," another officer acknowledged. Both Penelope and Timothy lay on the floor, stunned.  
"I'll take this," Jeffery said, grabbing the box with Sylvia's memories from the table, "Glad to see they took the bait and left the treasure,"  
The building started to shake.  
"That ship is taking off!" Hurken called from the door, "And I think they're pointing weapons at us too!"  
"Jeffery to Stallion! Beam us up!"

Jeffery and Hurken rushed onto the Stallion's bridge. Shurgroe had gone to Engineering to nurse the strained warp core, while the security team members had been detailed to returning the Roan and the Niagra from the planet surface.  
"We have them on sensors," Gonzalez reported, "Wow, check out these power readings! Looks like a mean motherf**ker!"  
"Watch your mouth!" Kren shouted.  
"I'm still feeling very confused," Sylvia piped in, "Am I supposed to analyze these sensor readings, or do you do it?"  
"One sec," Jeffery was plugging Timothy's fake AI box into a computer junction. Within seconds, Sylvia's memories were back in the computer core.  
"I'm on it," Sylvia said, suddenly all business, "And thank you, by the way,"  
The Stallion shook hard, tossing everybody to the deck.  
"Analysis complete," Sylvia chimed, "We don't stand a chance against their weapons,"  
"I could have told you that!" Hurken snapped, "Return fire?"  
"No," Simplot ordered, "Let them go. Back off,"  
"They're not pursuing us," Hurken reported after a moment.  
"Why should they," Simplot shrugged, "After all, they got what they came for,"  
"Yeah," Jeffery sat at an empty station, exhausted, "But what happens once they realize all they have is a cheap holographic copy of Sylvia?"  
"I thought the holo-relay was going to shut down once it was out of range of our subspace transceiver?" Gonzalez asked.  
"Ah squeezed a small holographic memory module on board," Jeffery said, "It would never hold a full hologram, even the most basic ones we use on the holodecks. But it will answer 3 or 4 different questions. And Ah included Sylvia's recipe for potato soup while Ah was at it,""  
"Still," Simplot said, "I don't want them to come looking for us once they figure out they have a fake. Set course for Starbase 45,"

The next day Jeffery was sitting in an armchair in The Wreck Deck. A Ship's Services maid was picking up all the scattered library padds and returning them to the shelves they'd been on before the unknown AI-nappers had fired on them, but Jeffery wasn't paying much attention to her. He was looking out at the stars. Somehow, the empty viewport on the Stallion's Wreck Deck just seemed off for some reason. He kept expecting to see a pair of warp nacelles filling the lower sides of the view.  
"Penny for your thoughts?" Simplot asked, taking a seat next to him.  
"Y'know," Jeffery said, "This little mission for Admiral Tunney turned out to be a little more action-packed than I was expecting,"  
"You mean you weren't expecting to be attacked by bounty hunters, chased through the ship by my security staff as part of some scheme to trick that Penelope bitch, building holo-relays from scratch and raiding criminal hotspots to regain your computer's memory?" Simplot asked.  
"Aye," Jeffery said, "Ye can say that. For sure,"  
"I hope you don't regret visiting us here," Simplot said.  
"Regret?" Jeffery looked up, "No. Not at all,"  
"Liar,"  
Jeffery sat up, "I didn't-"  
"It's OK, Simon," Simplot sighed, "We aren't an average crew. We all know that. It's not like we'd be on this ship if we were. I guess we thought somebody from another Operation Salvage ship would fit in well with us, but I guess you folk on Silverado are a bit more professional than we are," she shrugged, "Your captain probably runs a tight ship where everybody knows their place and inappropriate conversations just don't happen in public places like the bridge,"  
"Hardly," Jeffery snorted, "Ah mean, yeah. That's it."  
"He doesn't mean to give the impression that he dislikes you all," Sylvia cut in, "He just isn't good at showing affection,"  
"Sylvia!" Jeffery groaned, "Do ye mind?"  
"Sorry," Sylvia said, "I'll be good,"  
"Look," Jeffery said, turning to Simplot, "Ye've got a good crew here. A little strange," he frowned, "Very strange. Extremely strange,"  
"I get the point," Simplot said dryly.  
"But strange is good," he went on, "Ah mean, being strange gives ye diversity, and strength. Ah just," he shook his head, "Ah dunno,"  
"You're afraid that if you get too attached to another crew it's going to be hard on you when you go back to Silverado," Simplot suggested.  
"If I go back to Silverado," Jeffery corrected, "Tunney wants this to be a permanent thing, going from ship to ship,"  
"Do you think you can deal with that?" Simplot asked, "I mean, here you are just getting comfortable with my crew. You'd have to go through the whole thing with each crew you work with. The only alternative would be to cut yourself off entirely. And that's really no way to live,"  
"Lots of people do it," Jeffery shrugged, "Starbase personnel never work on the same ship very long,"  
"But they have the Starbase crew to bond with," Simplot reminded him.  
"Ah have Sylvia," Jeffery said.  
"That's sweet, Simon," Sylvia cut in.  
"Dammit Sylvia!" Jeffey groaned, "Didn't ye get the memory about privacy in conversations back?"  
"I did, but since I was the topic…"  
"Can ye shut off yer audio pickups for 10 minutes?" Jeffery requested.  
"As you wish,"  
After a pause, Simplot chuckled.  
"You two sound like an old married couple," she said, "If you're not careful, that's what you'll become,"  
"Ah have a girl," Jeffery said.  
"No you don't," Simplot said, signaling a waiter to bring them drinks, "The way I understand it, you left her without even saying a proper goodbye,"  
"Ah left a message," Jeffery said defensively, "She didn't want to talk to me,"  
"You assumed she didn't" Simplot said, "Bad idea with women, believe me.  
Their drinks arrived. They both took long swallows.  
"What's the real reason you refuse to date?" Simplot asked, "And don't tell me it's because of a girl back on Silverado. I know men. You're all so horny you'd jump at the first pretty woman to make an offer,"  
"That's not true," Jeffery said.  
"Right," Simplot said, "Then your Captain didn't really have sex with the Prefect of Senous in the ladies bathroom of the Matrian government building?"  
"How'd ye know about that?" Jeffery frowned. He took another swing of his drink and waved for another. The waiter, annoyed, made the long trek from the bar all away across the huge, open space to the seats by the window.  
"Sylvia told me," Simplot said.  
"The woman has no concept of privacy," Jeffery fumed.  
"She does," Simplot said, "But he didn't instruct her to keep that private," she frowned, "In fact, it sounds like he was pretty proud of the whole thing,"  
"You know," the waiter said peevishly, "We have a dozen empty seats closer to the bar,"  
"Take a pill, John," Simplot said. The waiter grunted and went back to his work.  
"But anyway, Simon," Simplot went on, "So you say you have a girl. Clearly the two of you are at least taking a break from each other. Another guy in your situation would be checking out the ladies, dating a few of them. Maybe even trying to score. But the only date you went on was with a psycho bounty hunter, and Sylvia forced you into that one!"  
Jeffery was quiet for a moment, sipping his drink.  
"Noel," he said, "Had very firm ideas about men, sex and relationships. The first time we did anything together was in a virtual reality she had been brainwashed into taking control of. I, uh, wound up in shorts and a dog collar, playing the part of her slave,"  
"Kinky," Simplot said, trying to picture it.  
"Not really," Jeffery sighed, "It didn't have anything to do with sex. It was all about control. About showing how men were beneath women. Her entire virtual world was like that,"  
"But you said she was brainwashed," Simplot said.  
"To a point," Jeffery nodded, "The device that did it picked her because her personality was so close to the folks who had built it. The Matrians."  
"So you're out from under her thumb now," Simplot said, "Shouldn't you be stretching your legs? Enjoying your freedom? Let me tell you:" she cut Jeffery off before he could speak, "You're afraid that if you do anything to enjoy yourself the slightest bit you won't want to go back to her. That you'll realize how good it is when you're with a woman who actually cares about you and wants to please you, instead of being with a cold bitch who would rather you ate with the dogs than at the dinner table,"  
"Yer out of line!" Jeffery said, getting angry, "Ye know, Ah once spent days in a holo-program with an abusive woman. And I learned perfectly well that Ah don't need to a control freak. Ah can be my own man and Ah don't care what she says,"  
"No, you're an idiot," Simplot snapped back, taking another drink, "I bet you tried standing up to Noel after that. And what did she do? Respect you?"  
"Not…exactly," Jeffery admitted. In truth, Wowryk had been even colder after that. But she had been starting to warm up, especially after little Luke had come along, "But she was improving,"  
"Uh-huh," Simplot tossed back the last of her drink, signaling for more, "Then why did you break up?"  
"We DIDN'T!" Jeffery snapped. As soon as he said it, he knew it was a lie.  
From the look on her face, so did Simplot.  
"We, had a disagreement," he said, sipping the fresh drink the waiter had delivered, "Over physical…stuff,"  
"Sex?"  
Jeffery looked annoyed.  
"Kissing," he said.  
"Even worse!" Simplot looked shocked, "Simon, if she won't kiss you, then what do you have? Men have needs! Even I know that!"  
"Evil needs," Jeffery shrugged, "According to Noel,"  
"This is worse than I thought," Simplot said, "Simon, how long has it been,"  
"Has what been?"  
"You know damned well what I mean," Simplot said, "How long has it been since you've had sex. With a woman,"  
Jeffery blushed.  
"That's really none of yer-"  
"How long?"  
Jeffery sighed.  
"Over two years," he admitted.  
"Good grief," Simplot shook her head, "It's worse than I thought. You're terrifed that sex with a woman will make it even harder to go back to that chaste life the two of you lead,"  
"Look, Captain," Jeffery said, "Ah don't appreciate yer analyzing me, or presuming to know what I'm feeling or thinking!"  
"Then what are you thinking, Simon," Simplot asked, tilting her head.  
At that moment, Jeffery suddenly noticed that her hair really did look good, cascading as it did over her shoulders. He shook his head.  
"Ah'm thinking that it's time to go back to me quarters and get some shut-eye," he growled.  
"No, you're not," Simplot said simply.  
"I know what I want," Jeffery said.  
"No, you don't," Simplot replied, "Did you know, Simon, that when a guy is turned on there are very obvious signs? Your pupils dilate. Your respiration increases. And your eyes start looking in the oddest places,"  
"Look, Captain, Ah,"  
"Don't bring rank into this," Simplot yanked her rank pips off her collar and threw them to the floor, "I'm a woman. You're a man. That's all there is to this,"  
"Kate," Jeffeery was shrinking back into his chair as Simplot moved closer, "Ah can't. Ah won't! There's nothing ye can do to-"  
Simplot leaned forward and kissed him.  
Her kiss was strong, aggressive. She firmly planted both hands on his wrists, preventing him from raising his arms in protest. When she leaned back again, he was flushed, his breathing shaky.  
"You like aggressive women?" she breathed, "I'll show you an aggressive woman,"  
She grabbed him by the arms and hauled him out of the Wreck Deck.

Command Kren lay in his bed, deeply engrossed in a fascinating article discussing the relative merits of the new Sovereign-class cruisers and their Galaxy-class predecessors. He was particularly interested in the author's analysis of the impressions made by the two ship designs during First Contact situations, and agreed that the spacious interior and non-threatening design of the Galaxy-class made it far better suited for exploration duties. Then the screaming started.  
"YES! YEEES!"  
"Knock it off!" Kren shouted, banging one fist against the wall, "It wasn't cute the first 4 times you did it, it's not cute now!"

"Well, somebody had a good time last night," Sylvia remarked as Jeffery walked into Engineering. He didn't bother to dodge his way through the usual group of young women trying to get his attention. Instead he strode right through, ignoring them completely.  
"You and the Captain hit if off last night, huh?" Shurgroe asked, just packing away the candles from his morning chant,"  
"Ye know ye shouldn't have flames in an engine room," Jeffery said cheerfully.  
"I k-know," Shurgroe said, "But if I d-don't give the engines their morning blessing I f-feel nervous all day,"  
"And what a change that would be," Jeffery muttered, "How do ye know about me and the Captain?"  
"Please, Simon," Sylvia said, "Who doesn't know? You woke up half of Deck 5,"  
"It's been a while," Jeffery said, blushing.  
"Clearly,"

"OK ladies, pay up," Simplot said, arriving on the bridge.  
"We know, we know," Tereneth sighed, "Gonzalez already told us,"  
"I won the betting pool, "Gonzalez said.  
"And how did you know he'd weaken for me?" Simplot asked with a smile.  
"I know how men think," Gonzalez said.  
"How was he?" Sinclair asked, "Any good?"  
Simplot shrugged.  
"Well, if you consider being completely ravaged by an energetic, attractive young man who's even more sex-starved than a sailor in the merchant navy as being good…" Simplot smiled, "then definitely.  
"I hate you," Tereneth grumbled.  
"You want energy?" Gonzalez asked, "Drop by my place later. I'll show you energy,"  
"Please," Tereneth said, "I know where you've been. I do have some standards after all,"

"Jeffery, do you have a minute?"  
"Since when do ye ask me before ye speak, Sylvia?" Jeffery asked. He was on Deck 8, working on one of the power conduits.  
"Simon, I'm going home," Sylvia said bluntly.  
"Home?"  
"To Silverado," Sylvia said.  
"But Sylvia!" Jeffery said, "We're just getting started!"  
"Maybe you are," Sylvia said, "And I'm glad to see that you're finally settling in here. Although since you'll be leaving for the next ship soon and shouldn't make yourself too comfortable,"  
"Right," Jeffery said tonelessly.  
"But I've been attacked by bounty hunters, had my memory stolen and had to convince two new crews that I'm not just a talking appliance!" Sylvia fumed, "Not to mention that I really miss the high-power computer core on Silverado, the larger body, the bigger engines. I want to go home,"  
"I hear our next assignment is a Republic-class ship," Jeffery offered, "They have fairly modern computer systems,"  
"It's not the same," Sylvia said, "I want my old body back!"  
Jeffery thought for a moment.  
"Ye know," he said, "Sometimes even I forget yer more than a computer sometimes," he admitted.  
"Thanks a lot!" Sylvia grumbled.  
"But Ah also forgot yer barely a year old," he went on, "And Ah can see why we'd want to go back,"  
"Thanks, Simon," Sylvia said, "We're on our way to Starbase 45 anyway, so it won't be hard for us to catch a shuttle back home,"  
"Right," Jeffery said, frowning, "Ah guess 'we' will be back before 'we' know it,"

End

Who's going back to Silverado? Who's staying? Even more important, what happens when you mix Silverado and Stallion officers in the same bar? And what does a swamp have to do with everything? All that and more, coming your way next!


	5. Dances with Starships

Star Traks: Silverado

3.5 "Dances with Starships"

"Starbase 45 this is USS Stallion," Lieutenant Hurken said, manning the tactical station on the port side of the bridge, "Ready for docking maneuver,"  
"Stallion this is Starbase 45 Control," the female voice returned, "Tractor beams are locked. Enjoy the ride, and welcome home,"  
"Whatever," Hurken grunted, cutting the channel. On the main screen the mammoth double-mushroom of the starbase floated above a fertile, green planet.  
A major starbase, Starbase 45 had a large upper section shaped like a mushroom cap, within which was a huge hanger. Even the Galaxy-class ships, the biggest vessels in the fleet, could dock. For an old Constitution-class like the Stallion it would be like putting a round peg in a bucket. A central shaft extended down from the upper section, a bulbous sphere at the far end housing the power reactors while a smaller docking area halfway up held engineering and utility bays. There were a wide range of starbases and space stations in the Federation, from the Cardassian-built Deep Space 9 to the uniquely designed Waystation, but starbases like 45 were the most advanced and recognizable. The station itself, despite the low number, was relatively new. The original Starbase 45 had been dismantled; what had once been a frontier sector with a heavy need for the security offered by the starbase had become a safe, secure (and boring) inner sector of the Federation. And so the old Starbase 45 had been decommissioned, the materials used to build a new, updated Starbase 45 in a sector in far more need of safety and security.  
Whether the retention of the lower numbers as station designations was due to a lack or creativity or a fear that they may eventually run out of numbers is still something of a mystery.  
"What a flagrant disregard of protocol," Commander Iron Kren grunted from his seat near Environmental Control.  
"Hmmm?" Captain Simplot pulled her eyes away from the view screen, "What?"  
"Only Earth Spacedock is supposed to say 'Enjoy the ride, and welcome home," Kren went on, "Starbases need to build up their own traditions and ceremonies,"  
"You need to get laid," Lieutenant Sinclair grumbled from Ops.  
The ship lurched, sending everybody flailing for handholds.  
"Approach Control must be training a new tractor monkey," Simplot commented.  
"Engineering t-t-to Bridge,"  
"Simplot here," Simplot sighed, "Sorry Josh, just a little rough handling from the starbase, nothing to be worried about,"  
"Says you," Shurgroe replied, "But Sylvia's getting nauseous. Do you know what happens when AIs get sick?"  
"Nooo," Simplot said slowly, "Do I want to?"  
"Let's put it this way," Jeffery cut in, "Either smoothen out the ride, or stay away from the replicators for the next few hours,"  
"I'll keep that in mind," Simplot said, "Oh, Simon, can you meet me in the briefing room? I'd, uh, like to go over the final efficiency numbers with you before you leave,"  
"Aye, Captain,"

"Well, Josh," Jeffery shrugged, "Ah guess this is it,"  
"Y-yeah," Josh Shurgroe nodded, "Sure is,"  
"Just keep to the schedule we put together," Jeffery reminded him, "Ye'll have the old girl purring like a kitten in no time,"  
"Thanks, Simon," Josh offered his hand. Jeffery shook it firmly then took his leave. Jeffery and Shurgroe hadn't gotten off to a very good start, but after working with him for several weeks on fixing some of the Stallion's more serious problems Jeffery had developed a healthy respect for the other engineer. Even if he did have weird symbols shaved into his hair, chanted twice a day, participated in enough pagan rituals to give Wowryk an apoplectic seizure and, rumor had it, was tattooed with fertility symbols in the oddest places. On the other hand Jeffery really wasn't in a position to judge; Wowryk would probably scare Shurgroe to death.  
"Is he gone?" Sylvia asked after Jeffery had departed.  
"Like you didn't know?" Shurgroe replied.  
"I was being polite," Sylvia replied.  
"I know, just one more of your many charming features," Josh sighed, "I'm going to miss you, Sylvia,"  
"And I you, Josh," Sylvia replied, her face appearing on a display. It was younger than her usual face. She'd removed many of the lines and wrinkles, giving her the appearance of a woman closer to Josh's age.  
"You'll keep in touch?" Josh asked.  
"Honey, I have enough processing power you write you several thousand pages worth of commentary per day," Sylvia said, "But I'll stick to keeping in touch,"  
"Good,"

"So," Jeffery said, lying exhausted on the briefing room table, the triple display monitor having been tossed somewhat unceremoniously into a corner, "You'll keep in touch?"  
Captain Simplot, pulling her uniform back on, looked at him in surprise.  
"You want me to?" she asked.  
"What do ye mean?" Jeffery asked, "Of course Ah do! Yer a great woman!"  
"I am," Simplot admitted, "But, Simon, as much fun as we've had, do you really see us going anywhere?"  
"Well," Jeffery shrugged and reached for his pants, suddenly feeling self-conscious, "I just sort of thought-"  
"That I'd want a deep meaningful relationship?" Simplot finished.  
"Most women are like that," Jeffery said.  
"Maybe in the 20th century they were," Simplot said, "Simon, we had a really good time, and I'll always think on you fondly. But is there really any point in trying to turn this into something it isn't?"  
"Ah guess not," Jeffery said, sounding a little angry.  
"I've hurt your feelings," Simplot said.  
"Nay, not at all!" Jeffery snapped, throwing his cloths on, "Just because Ah thought ye might have some interest in me beyond being the first sex-starved woman on this ship to get me in for a good shag, why should Ah be angry?"  
"It's not like that, Simon," Simplot sighed, "You're a great man, and under different circumstances-"  
"Ye don't need to explain," Jeffery said, "Ah understand just fine," he strode to the door, then turned back, "Enjoy yer next mission,"  
And he left.

Lieutenant Jall sighed contentedly to himself as he sat at the Port Auxiliary console. The Aux consoles were really a great design idea on the part of whichever Starfleet desk-jockey that had designed Silverado's bridge module. The bridge had to be fairly small to better fit the Ambassador-class ship it was attached to. (The original Ambassador-class had a truly wretched bridge.) The older starship bridges like the one on the Stallion had been big, circular affairs that had to accommodate over a dozen stations while the Ambassador-class bridges had been cramped, angular modules. The newer bridges on the Galaxy, Intrepid and Sovereign-classes were more efficient, but you could still hold a dance party on one of those. But the programmable Aux consoles meant that the only stations that had to be included in the bridge design were there ones that were always staffed. And even those could be changed to handle different functions if the need arose! From an Operations standpoint, Jall loved the flexibility and versatility. It also meant fewer idiots on the bridge to bungle things up.  
Docked as she was at Starbase 45, Silverado was nearly empty. Most of the crew was staying in temporary quarters on the starbase, if for no other reason than for a change in scenery. The warp core and impulse reactors had been powered down for maintenance and the power running the ship was coming in from the umbilical attaching it to the station. Jall tapped a button, activated a calming house beat and leaned back in his chair, smiling again.

"What the hell is that racket?" Stafford grumbled, stepping out onto the bridge. At one of the Aux consoles he could see Jall leaning back, eyes closed, mouth stretched in a goofy grin, one. His foot was tapping to the music and one hand was making strange gestures, moving along with the rhythm. He was completely unaware that Stafford was standing right behind him.  
Oh, the opportunity! Stafford bit his lip. He could call Red Alert, scaring the hell out of his annoying Ops officer. Or just sneak up behind him.  
Stafford sighed.  
Yvonnokoff hadn't let up on the senior staff, insisting that they do more to improve their relationships with each other. Stafford really didn't see why it should be so hard, they'd established a good relationship fairly early on without too much trouble. Except for Jall. And maybe Wowryk. And maybe Noonan had been a little aloof the entire time.  
OK, fine. So there was room for improvement.  
"Sylvia, pause the music please," he said.  
No answer.  
"Computer!" he growled, "Pause playback!"  
"What the f-" Jall spun around.  
"As you were," Stafford said, trying to smile in a fashion he hoped was friendly.  
"What are you doing here?" Jall demanded, "And what's wrong with your face?"  
"I might ask you the same," Stafford said, letting the smile drop, "I was just wandering around. Y'know, doing the whole 'commune with your ship' thing,"  
"Oh," Jall shrugged, "I was just enjoying the quiet. Y'know, it's always so noisy. It's kinda nice to be alone for a change,"  
"Really?" Stafford sat in Trish's seat at the helm, removing himself from the authority of the command chair, "Y'know, I noticed the same thing,"  
"No complaining crewmembers," Jall said.  
"No hum of the engines," Stafford added.  
"Just peace and quiet," Jall finished with a grin.  
There was a pause.  
"I don't like it," Stafford decided, "I know the ship's been in dock before, but something about it just feels…different. I don't know what it is." He closed his eyes, trying to identify the sensation.  
"Dead," he said finally, "She just feels…dead."  
"Sylvia," Jall said immediately.  
"You think so?" Stafford asked.  
Jall shrugged.  
"She's always around," he said, "And you always know about it. Face it, discretion really isn't one of her strengths,"  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed.

"USS Stallion, arriving bay A-14," announced the automated computer control system.  
Simplot sat in her chair, watching as the entrance to the Starbase hanger bay passed by the viewscreen. Inside the station was a harmony of whitish-blue hull plates dotted by dozens upon dozens of decks of lit windows. A central core held the inner berths with a row of double-high windows revealing lounges, restaurants and shopping facilities.  
Even as they neared their berth, Simplot could see dozens of tiny people looking out the window as the ship came in. As much as she'd like to believe that they were rushing to watch a famous ship arrive from a daring mission vital to Federation security, she knew they were really just trying to catch a glimpse of the oldest and only Constitution-class ship still in service.  
"Fame or infamy," she sighed, "At least they know we're here,"  
"Look at that," Sylvia's voice came over the speakers.  
Two berths over they could see Silverado. Her engines were offline and most of her windows were dark, but Simplot had to admit she looked good.  
"Looking forward to getting home?" Kren asked.  
"Going home?" Sylvia chuckled, "That's understating it a bit. I'm looking forward to being back in my own body,"  
"I can relate," Kren said, surprising everybody on the bridge, "After my first host died it took a really long time for me to adapt to the next body," he frowned, "Of course, my new host was a different gender, but still." He looked around at the open stares around the bridge.  
"What?" he snapped, "I can be a nice guy sometimes!"  
"Hmm," Sylvia teased, "And on the day I'm leaving!"

"Something you might want to see," Jall said, taking another swig of his drink. He and Stafford, being off duty, had replicated some snacks and beverages.  
"What's that? A competent officer?" Stafford asked.  
"Ha ha," Jall said flatly. He tapped a button and the USS Stallion appeared on the screen, easing into her berth.  
"The Stallion?" Stafford's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "I didn't know she was going to be in." He took a drink, "She looks good,"  
"She looks obsolete," Jall said.  
Stafford turned to him.  
"C'mon, look at her. Are you going to tell me that's not one of the most graceful and elegant starship designs you've ever seen?"  
Jall looked more closely at the Stallion's lines. The saucer, connected to the sleek engineering section by a slender neck and the rectangular warp nacelles, placed above the saucer by long, graceful pylons.  
"It looks…floppy," Jall said.  
"Floppy?"  
"Like the engines and saucer are just going to fall off," Jall said.  
"You have no appreciation for style. But anyway, I wonder what she's doing here," Stafford wondered, "I thought they were supposed be doing courier missions for the next few weeks,"  
"Lemme check," Jall tapped into the Starbase computer network, "Huh. It says here that they were attacked by bounty hunters and need some repair work done,"  
"Bounty hunters?" Stafford frowned, "From what? 'Antique Spacelanes'?"  
"No," Jall made a small sound of surprise, "They were trying to get an AI. Sylvia, I suppose." He scratched his head, "I guess they didn't get her. Good thing too, or they'd be nagged to death before they could collect the bounty, huh Captain?"  
No answer.  
"Captain?"  
Stafford was already in the turbolift.

Yanick and Wowryk were strolling along Stellar Services, Starbase 45's shopping mall. Yanick was wearing civilian cloths, showing off her legs in a fairly short skirt. Wowryk wore a more conservative floor length dress. There were a lot of people who felt that dresses were completely out of style. Many of these people in fact were also strolling down the mall, speculating that maybe Wowryk was a time-displacement victim, or perhaps a member of an alien race that hadn't learned to appreciate separate-leg apparel. Those male speculators (and a few of the females) did have to admit that she looked good in it. A combination of beautiful femininity and stern 'don't bother me'.  
That image was somewhat offset though by the baby-like alien she was pushing along in a stroller.  
You know, Lord Stalart commented, on my home planet I had to get slaves to carry me around in a litter. Many of them found it quite undignified and had to be beaten into submission. How very charming that you perform the same task with so much less fuss. Hey! I wasn't done looking in the window of that shop! There are so many torture instruments I want to buy! Turn around at once!  
"Y'know," Yanick said, "I don't know why they'd have a kitchen supply shop on a starbase,"  
"Some people still do things the old-fashioned way," Wowryk reminded her.  
"Uh huh. Like being a single parent of an adopted child. But speaking of that, how are you and little Luke getting along?" Yanick asked.  
"He's been very well behaved," Wowryk said proudly, "No fuss from Madame Schoonbaert, no wandering around the ship. Right?" she picked up Stalart and nuzzled his nose, "Who's my good little boy? Who's my good little boy?"  
Certainly not me, Stalart thought-spoke, It's just that none of you have the intellectual capacity to catch me in my misdeeds, now that the mechanical bitch is gone!  
"You've sure gotten attached to him," Yanick commented.  
"Yes well," Wowryk sighed, "It's nice to have a male in my life who isn't out to get me,"  
Don't count one it!  
"At least you have A male in your life," Yanick grumbled.  
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Wowryk demanded.  
"Nothing," Yanick said innocently, "I said, uh, at least you have a SALE in your life. See? Over at Gaktorin's Gursbaniks!"  
"What's a gursbanik?" Wowryk wondered as Yanick dragged her towards the store.  
"Who cares?" Yanick giggled, "They're on sale!"

"All set, Sylvia?"  
"Yes, Simon," Sylvia replied, her voice coming from the box-like module containing her core gel-pack and circuits, "I've withdrawn from the Stallion's computer and into this cramped little box that SOMEBODY didn't even think to install a visual sensor in,"  
"Sorry," Jeffery said, disconnecting the box and slinging it over his shoulder by a carry-strap. His duffle bag was on the other shoulder. Turning, he started to head towards the airlock.  
"Simon!"  
Jeffery looked back, surprise.  
"Chris?" he laughed, "What are ye doin' here?"  
"I heard about the attacks," Stafford said, "I wanted to be sure Sylvia was OK,"  
"Sylvia?" Jeffery felt a bit hurt, "Ye mean ye didn't come to ask about me?"  
Stafford was taken a back.  
"Well, yeah," he said, looking a bit uncomfortable, "But, um. You know. I figured you'd be OK,"  
"I'm only yer best friend," Jeffery said, "No reason why you should care whether or not I'm OK,"  
"Are you OK?" Stafford asked.  
"He's fine," Sylvia cut in, "Enough with the feelings you two! Chris, it's great to see you again. But can we PLEASE get me back in my body?"  
"You're coming back?" Stafford was surprised.  
"Yes-" Sylvia started.  
"She is," Jeffery said, resuming his walk towards the airlock, "Sylvia decided she'd had enough,"  
"Enough attacks by bounty hunters," Sylvia clarified.  
"That's great!" Stafford said, "It'll be great to have you both back. You have no idea how things on the ship have fallen apart without you two-"  
"Ah'm staying with Tunney's mission," Jeffery said, "But Sylvia will clean up any mess that idiot Sage made of the ship,"  
"What exactly do you mean 'falling apart'," Sylvia asked angrily, "What have you people been doing to my body?"  
"Just the usual array of glitches," Stafford assured her, "They just got a lot worse without you,"  
"Nice to know I was making a difference," Sylvia mused.  
"So what brings you guys to Starbase 45?" Jeffery asked, hoping to avoid the topic of his soon-to-be departure, "Ah thought we'd be sending somebody with Sylvia and the Niagra to meet ye,"  
"Yeah, I want that runabout back," Stafford reminded him.  
"It's on the starbase task list," Jeffery said, exiting the Stallion's airlock and walking down the gangway into the station, "But why are ye here?"  
"Oh," Stafford swallowed, "Uh, the ship was invaded, you could say. Tunney gave our mission to the USS Wellesley. By the time we cleared out the…invasion…the Wellesley had finished the mission and gone on to our next one. So we didn't have a lot to do, so we decided to take some leave time and put in for maintenance,"  
"Invaded?" Jeffery and Sylvia said together, sounding rather cross, "By who?"  
Stafford coloured.  
"My family," he said flatly.  
"I hope they didn't make too much of a mess!" Sylvia said.

Lieutenant Stern lounged in his seat, drinking deeply of his synthale as he looked out the windows. He could see 4 different starships from the bar he and the rest of the Hazardous Team had claimed for the evening.  
"I think it's the USS Churchill," Marsden said, squinting as he tried to make out the markings on a Miranda-class ship berthed near far wall of the hanger bay.  
"Your eyesight is pathetic, human," Crewman Kreklor stated, "It is the USS Churchmouse,"  
"I find that comment racist!" Ensign Simmons declared.  
"Nobody asked you," Marsden replied, "And what the hell is a Churchmouse?"  
"A mouse that lives in a church, most likely," Stern sighed, drinking again. He turned to Ensign Rengs, "So how's Aris treating you these days? She watching the kid while you take leave?"  
"Sort of," Rengs grumbled, "She's taking him to a holo-play, then dropping him off at the station's daycare,"  
"You don't sound happy about it," Marsden said, eyeing an Excelsior-class ship as it eased out of the bay, "USS Dieffenbachia,"  
"That's a plant," Stern said.  
"And they can't name a ship after plants?"  
"Not on Qo'nos, we can't" Kreklor growled.  
"It's just that she hasn't been…well," Rengs coloured, "How do I put this,"  
"She hasn't been rocking your starship?" Stern suggested.  
"Straining your inertial dampeners?" Marsden added.  
"She has failed to perform her wifely duties," Kreklor said.  
"Say it a little louder!" Rengs snapped, "I don't think they heard you in the Delta quadrant!"  
"Hey boys,"  
Heads turned to greet the newcomer; a graceful being with a sleek build, soft looking skin and a beautiful pair of green eyes.  
"I hear somebody here isn't getting any love," the newcomer said, settling into a vacant chair.  
"Uh," Stern cleared his throat, "Look, if you're here to sell us something we're really not interested-"  
"I'm Lieutenant Tereneth, USS Stallion," Tereneth said, "What can I say? I'm always attracted to tables full of frisky security types,"

Captain Simplot and Lieutenant Shurgroe sat at the bar, watching as the security officers from Silverado made conversation with Tereneth.  
"Do you think we s-s-should warn them?" Shurgroe asked.  
"Are you kidding?" Simplot sat back to watch the show.

"Hands!" Rengs exclaimed, "Hands in places hands really shouldn't go on a married man!"  
"Don't be such a wuss, Rengs," Stern said, slurring a little as the synthohol caught up to him. He switched places with the Bajoran, siding up next to Tereneth.  
"Well hello," Tereneth grinned, "You're a manly specimen, aren't you,"  
"Yes ma'am," Stern said.  
"Oh please," Simmons groaned, "I thought we were here to hang out as a team, not watch Stern play with the local floozies,"  
"Watch it," an annoyed voice came from behind Simmons. He turned to see a very large-chested Caribbean woman glaring at him.  
"What?" he asked, "There's nothing wrong with being a floozy," he smiled, "You can be my floozy if you like,"

"The big guy there is sure going for Tereneth," Shurgroe observed.  
"Wait till he finds out what s/he has in store for him," Simplot mused.  
"How DARE you, little man!"  
"Uh-oh," Simplot got to her feet. Simmons, Kreklor and Marsden were standing facing Sinclair. Even as Simplot watched, Hurken joined the party, flanking Sinclair.  
"Is there a problem?" Simplot asked, trying to squeeze between the larger officers.  
"This one here implied we were prostitutes!" Sinclair said darkly.  
"But there's nothing wrong with that!" Simmons protested, "I like-"  
SMACK  
"Ow," Simplot rubbed her hand, "Don't make me hit you again! That hurt!"  
"That hurt YOU?" Simmons rubbed his face, "What about me?"  
"C-cmon folks," Shurgroe called from the back of the crowd, "I'm sure we can settle this without getting violent,"  
"We could kick your asses," Simmons sneered.  
"I'd like to see you try!" Sinclair shot back.  
"Whoah, whoah," Simplot said, "There are far too many hormones brewing in the air here. How about we settle this in a civilized Starfleet manner,"  
"Like what?" Marsden asked, "Phasers at 20 paces?"  
"I was thinking along the lines of a war game," Simplot said.  
"Oh, no," Simmons groaned, "We tried that once. A bunch of women showed up and ruined everything!"  
"Careful," Marsden whispered, eyeing Sinclair, "She could probably flatten you with one shot!"  
"What do you say?" Sinclair snapped, "Our ship verses your ship. The winner gets, ummm…"  
"This," Hurken wrenched a silver-plated statue out of a niche in a nearby wall, "This will be our trophy!"  
"Fine! See you on the battlefield!" Simmons snapped.  
Grumbling, the Stallion officers left.  
"We don't HAVE a ship!" Marsden reminded Simmons.  
"To decline the challenge would have been a great dishonor," Kreklor spoke up.  
"Look guys, don't worry. I have a plan," Simmons looked around, "Where's Stern?"  
"He's over there making out with that Stallion officer," Rengs pointed.  
"Hey guys," Marsden squinted at Tereneth, "I think s/he's a Hermat,"  
"Those multi-sexual things?" Simmons wrinkled his nose, "Ewww. Do you think Stern knows?"  
They watched as Stern slung Tereneth over one shoulder and walked out of the lounge. Tereneth gave them a playful wave as s/he was carried out of sight.  
"I do not think he cares," Kreklor stated.

The next morning, Stafford and Yanick walked through the Starbase 45 arboretum. It really was a pleasant way to start the morning, Stafford mused. Why had he never bothered to walk in Silverado's arboretum before? They had a duck pond and everything! On the other hand, Starbase 45 had a veritable lake sitting in theirs, but still.  
"So you actually had a conversation with Jall?" Yanick was amazed, having just heard Stafford recollecting his last experience with the Ops officer, "No shouting? No yelling? No hair pulling?"  
"Swear to God," Stafford said, holding up one hand, "An honest conversation. Scary, huh?"  
"Yeah," Yanick said, "But, y'know, it's a good thing,"  
"I dunno," Stafford said, "I'm kinda scared that life just won't be interesting if I can't make fun of Jall,"  
"True, but-"  
Yanick was cut off as Wowryk came storming through the arboretum.  
"Have either of you seen Luke?" she asked.  
"Luke?" Stafford shrugged, "Nope. Did he go exploring again?"  
"I swear, that child is impossible," Wowryk stormed.  
"Ask Sylvia for help!" Stafford called to her back. He turned to Wowryk, "At least the kid gives her somebody to vent her feelings on,"  
"Yeah," Yanick said, "If he's good, he's 'her' kid. But who's kid is he when he's bad?"  
"Huh?" Stafford blinked.  
"Nevermind, Chris," Yanick assured him, "It's a parent thing. Still, she said the other day that Luke was being really well behaved. I wonder what's up with that?"

"Sylvia?" Wowryk asked, looking up at the corridor ceiling, "Are you there?"  
Nothing.  
"Computer," she said, "Establish a comm-link with the USS Silverado. Open a channel to the computer core,"  
"Channel open," replied the base computer.  
"Sylvia?" Wowryk asked, "Can you give me a hand?"  
"Of course, Noel," Sylvia's voice came immediately through the speaker as she pushed aside the bleak personality of the starbase computer, "Oh, it's so good to see you and Luke again! It's felt like forever!"  
"Did you enjoy your trip, Sylvia?" Wowryk asked.  
"It had its ups and downs, dear," Sylvia replied, "Now, what can I help you with?"  
"I'm trying to find Luke," Wowryk said, "He got away from me,"  
"One sec," Sylvia was quiet for a moment, 'Got him. He's in one of the engineering Jefferies tubes. That little rascal!"  
There was a shower of transporter sparkles and Luke appeared in front of Wowryk. His hands were outstretched as though he'd been working on something.  
"There you are!" Wowryk scooped him up, "Thanks Sylvia!"  
SYLVIA!? Luke raged, SHE'S BACK? BLAST IT ALL! My time of freedom is at an end once again! Oh, I shall have my revenge, you meddling mechanical-  
"No problem, Noel," Sylvia replied.  
Carrying the enraged infant, Wowryk returned to the main mall area, narrowly missing Stern and Simmons as they rushed past.  
"Hey! Captain Kipper!" Simmons called out, jogging to catch up to Stafford.  
Stafford cocked his head briefly, then continued on. He'd just finished a briefing with Admiral Tunney, following his morning walk with Yanick and he wasn't exactly in the best of moods as a result. Some people (like Tunney) just didn't understand what wonderful people his Aunts were. Usually those were the people who had (again, like Tunney) managed to piss those dear ladies off.  
"Captain Stafford!" Stern called, smacking Simmons upside the head.  
"Huh?" Stafford asked, stopping and turning around. Simmons, distracted by the head smack, crashed right into him sending both officers to the floor. Simmons landed hard on Stafford, knocking his wind out.  
"You know, Ensign," Stafford said after a moment, Simmons' elbow planted firmly in the small of his back, "When I was wishing to run into a beautiful brunette this morning, you really weren't what I had in mind,"  
"Maybe you'd like his sister," Stern said thoughtfully.  
"Maybe I'd like him to GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!" Stafford shouted, startling both of them.  
"Bad day?" Stern asked politely as Simmons and Stafford climbed to their feet.  
"Any day when I have to meet with an Admiral is a bad day," Stafford said, "Or days when Station Security sends me reports of near-brawls involving my people!" he looked at Stern, "And just what are you so damned cheerful about today?"  
"Nothing," Stern said innocently, "But we had this thought-"  
"Er, yes," Simmons inturrupted, "About that. See, we have this idea-"  
"Sort of a way for you to improve staff morale," Stern jumped in, "A team builder, you could say,"  
"Improve morale," Stafford said dryly, "What makes you think I'd need to do that?"  
Stern and Simmons exchanged glances.  
"I've seen you guys on the bridge, sir," Stern said.  
"Well I'm glad your leadership skills are so much better than mine," Stafford said sarcastically, "When I want your opinion, Stern, I'll give it to you!" He turned to go.  
"It involves camping!" Simmons called out to Stafford's retreating back.  
Stafford stopped.  
"Camping?" he asked, not turning around.  
"Ramson 6 has some of the most beautiful lakes and beaches in the sector," Simmons went on, referring to the planet Starbase 45 orbited, "The planet's nice and safe; there's even a park set aside for Starbase staff and visiting crews," he handed Stafford a padd with pictures of a tranquil-looking lake surrounded by alien trees. Another image showed a grassy, virgin meadow just waiting for somebody to frolic through it.  
"That's not a bad idea," Stafford said slowly.  
"You and the senior staff," Simmons went on, "It'll be great! Shore leave AND esprit de corps,"  
"Take it from us, sir," Stern smiled, "After all, the Hazardous Team is the most highly motivated group on the ship. Who knows teamwork better than we do?"  
"If you'll just approve these requisitions…" Simmons held out two pads.  
Stafford glaced at the first padd. It held requisitions for tents, sleeping bags, portable environment fields and various other pieces of camping equipment. He thumbed his approval on both padds, not even reading the second. If he had, he would have been very curious as to why exactly a camping trip would involve requesting a Temporary Departure Permit and War-Game Participation Plan, along with a temporary transfer of Silverado's command codes to Lieutenant David Stern.  
"Good idea, guys," he said grudgingly, "I'll inform the others. Thanks,"

"Why are we here?" Jall asked, annoyed. He'd spent a great night partying it up in one of the station's nightclubs, 'The Sassy Singularity', and the bags under his eyes were making it pretty clear it had been a very, very late night.  
"Captain's orders," Fifebee replied automatically, using one hand to hold her holo-relay steady.  
"But it's shore leave," Wowryk said, holding a leash that had been affixed to the baby-harness Luke was wearing, "Why's he giving us orders during shore leave,"  
"He is the Captain," T'Parief said with his usual calm loyalty, "He can order us around whenever he likes,"  
"And you can order me around whenever you like," Yanick teased, cuddling up to T'Parief's side.  
Wowryk merely shook her head.  
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Noonan said politely, "And how are you all this fine day? Well, I hope?"  
"Why are you in such a good mood?" Jall asked.  
"Didn't you read the memo?" Noonan asked, his expression one of polite surprise, "We're going down to the planet. I do hope you brought some outdoor cloths and such,"  
There was an eruption of sound as everybody started to protest.  
"HEY! QUIET DOWN!"  
It was Stafford, standing in the doorway, a wide grin on his face.  
"Another one!" Jall grumbled, "You morning people make me sick!"  
"It's 1400h," Wowryk said coolly, "Hardly morning,"  
"It is for me right now!"  
"OK, folks," Stafford spoke up again, "Let's get this show on the road. Now, I assume everybody here didn't bother to read the memo?"  
Noonan nodded in confirmation.  
"I thought so," Stafford shrugged, "Which is why we're meeting in a Replicator Center. We're going down to the planet for a few days for a little trip. Whatever you need, now's the time to replicate it,"  
"Down to the planet for what?" Wowryk asked.  
"We're going camping!" Stafford said excitedly.  
Everybody stared at him.  
"Camping?" Fifebee asked, crossing her arms, "As in 'outdoors'. With insects, rodents and plant by-products?"  
"Yeah," Stafford nodded.  
"Have you forgotten that I dislike such things?" she asked.  
"Nope," Stafford shrugged, "Don't really care. But y'know, I did bring environmental fields to keep that kinda stuff out,"  
Fifebee arched an eyebrow.  
"Acceptable," she said, "I will comply,"  
"Is she channeling a Borg now or something?" Yanick whispered to T'Parief.  
"One never knows," he whispered back.  
"Why are we going 'camping'?" Wowryk asked.  
Stafford explained Simmons' idea and how he hoped that spending some time together outside of the ship would be beneficial.  
"You mean," Jall said, "We don't see enough of each other at work and off duty, now we have to hand out during shore leave too?"  
Stafford looked annoyed.  
"Weren't you people just complaining not too long ago about how we never did anything together anymore?"  
There was assorted grumblings, none of it sounding very convinced.  
"You damn well were!" Stafford snapped, "So we're gonna go down to the planet and we're going to camp, and fish, and swim and do whatever it is people on vacation do!"  
"How delightful!" Noonan grinned, rubbing his hands together.  
"Morning people," Jall groaned again.  
"We're just waiting for one more…" Stafford trailed off as the doors hissed open.  
Simon Jeffery walked in.  
"Uh, hi," he waved weakly, "Been a while, huh?"  
"I thought I'd get Simon to join us," Stafford said, "Y'know, even though he's leaving again soon…" he trailed off again as he noticed the expressions on his officers' faces.  
Everybody was staring at Wowryk, a mix of fear and anticipation on their faces.  
"Oops," Stafford said softly.  
Wowryk ignored them, except to pass the handle to Luke's leash to Yanick as she walked slowly towards Jeffery.  
"Uh, hi Noel," Jeffery said, "You look…good,"  
Wowryk stopped in front of him, regarding him coldly.  
"Is Simon going to die?" Yanick asked, worried.  
"He just might," T'Parief whispered back.  
Jeffery stood there, looking increasingly afraid as Wowryk stared coldly at him, as though waiting for him to explain himself.  
Then she kissed him.  
He flinched back at first, afraid she was about to run a fist through his face. But when her lips hit his he melted forward, her hands fluttering on his shoulders.  
It wasn't a long kiss, and after a few seconds she backed away.  
"That," she said calmly, "is what I was on my way to give you when I found out you had left," she lowered her voice and whispered in his ear, "That, and more,"  
Then she slapped him, hard.  
"That's all you're getting from me now!" she snarled, storming into one of the Replicator Rooms and stabbing angrily at the controls.  
"Ow," was all Jeffery could say as he rubbed his damaged face.

"Security on the bridge!" Simmons announced as the Hazardous Team emerged from the turbolift onto the darkened bridge of the Silverado. With most of the crew on shore leave only a skeleton force remained on board. The authorization padd Stafford had approved had been enough for Simmons and Stern to order those few crew members on board to ready the ship for departure. Sylvia also seemed to be happy with the approval, though a bit annoyed that her relaxation time was being cut short.  
"Dar'ugal, you've got Tactical," Simmons said settling into Stafford's chair, "Rengs, I want you on helm and Marsden, you've got engineering. Kreklor, you're on ops,"  
"Excuse me," Stern said, annoyed, "But I'm the ranking officer here,"  
"But it was all my idea!" Simmons objected.  
"Get out of my chair!" Stern commanded.  
"But Noonan's chair is the same," Simmons said, gesturing at the other chair in the center of the bridge, "And you can bet it's got less butt sweat in it than Stafford's!  
"That gross point aside," Stern wrinkled his nose, "I want the Captain's chair! Beat it!"  
Grumbling, Simmons acquiesced.  
"I'm activating war-game programming," Marsden reported. That would reduce phaser strength to almost nothing and set the torpedo launchers to fire harmless flares rather than anti-matter or quantum warheads. The shield sensors would detect hits by the Stallion's similarly weakened weapons and simulate damage accordingly.  
"Engage all systems," Sterm ordered.  
There was a perceptible hum as the ship's warp core powered up, the first minute particles of fuel combining in the reaction chamber to release the first glimmerings of plasma exhaust through the nacelle grills. Sensors, structural integrity fields and navigational systems powered up with a soft groan and display panels around the bridge flickered to life. As the main viewscreen came online they could see the Stallion as it floated gently out of the hanger door, her impulse engines flashing to life as she exited the bay.  
"You know," Marsden said as he tapped at his console, "When the captain finds out about this, he's gonna be pissed,"  
"Naw," Simmons shrugged, "I heard during the reunion that he used to borrow stuff from his parents all the time. He'll understand,"  
"Bit of a difference between a shuttle and a starship," Rengs said.

As the two starships were leaving dock, Stafford and company were materializing at their campsite.  
"Wow," Yanick said softly, taking in the view.  
They'd materialized in a clearing set into the side of a vast valley. The ground was fairly smooth but with a slight slope. After 30 feet or so the slight slope turned into a steep slope, trees clinging to the valley walls. A twisted path ran into the trees and out onto a broad beach bordering the lake. The sky was the deepest, most pure blue imaginable with only a slightly green tinge to the clouds telling them they were on an alien planet. She couldn't see any birds, but she did see several furry…things…leaping between the trees, chirping contentedly to themselves.  
"It's beautiful," Noonan remarked. He had worn his portable field generator, a small device he wore to protect his very sensitive skin from the burning fire of the sun. His immortal body may be impervious to many things, but certain types of radiation, such as UV rays, would burn him to a crisp. Stafford, however, had informed him that the area was blanketed by a filtering field, intended to prevent sunbathers from getting burns. Noonan kept his portable field close at hand, but was able to turn it off to conserve power.  
"Dude, are you OK?" Jall asked.  
"I beg your pardon?" Noonan asked.  
Jall looked uncomfortable, like he was afraid to say what he'd seen.  
Only then did Noonan realize he had a tear on his cheek. A blood tear, as his people were known to shed. He quickly wiped it off.  
"I'm very lucky to be able to see this," he said softly.  
"See what?" Jall asked, "It's just a bright, sunny day,"  
"Yes, it is," Noonan smiled.  
"So, ladies and gents," Stafford said happily, "who wants to help setup the tents?"  
"What?" Yanick asked, "TENTS?"  
"Uh, yeah," Stafford said, flat-faced, "We are camping, you know!"  
"Where's the cabin?" Wowryk asked.  
"Where's the replicator?" Yanick added.  
"Where's the hopping night club?" Jall groaned.  
"You've GOT to be kidding me," Stafford groaned. He tossed a small package at Jeffery.  
"Here, Simon, put up the girl's tent,"  
"Why do Ah have to do the girly stuff?" Jeffery grumbled. He lay the package on the ground, pulled a tab and jumped back. The small package expanded into a spacious 8 person tent.  
"What a drag," Jeffery groaned, tossing some sleeping bags inside.  
"Is anybody hungry?" T'Parief asked. He had stopped near the edge of the meadow to watch some animals graze. They looked a little like deer, except their pelts were darker and their bodies less lean.  
"I could use a bite," Jall shrugged, "Something that didn't come out of a replicator,"  
"Very well," T'Parief nodded, drew his phaser and fired. One of the quasi-deer fell immediately, the others running into the bush.  
Yanick and Wowryk stared in shock.  
"You shot Bambi!" Yanick cried.  
"You bastard!" Wowryk added.  
"Oh good," Stafford remarked, emerging from the tent he'd just put up, oblivious to the shocked looks on the women's faces, "Dinner!"

A short time later, Yanick, Fifebee and Wowryk emerged from their tent.  
"We're going sunbathing," Yanick declared, "Far away from you mean killers,"  
T'Parief, still in the process of skinning and gutting the deer, stopped licking blood off his claws and gave Yanick a guilty look.  
"Uh-huh, whatever you…holy shit," Stafford trailed off, turning to look at the three.  
Yanick was wearing a skimpy two piece, the bright green clashing rather horribly with her hair, but still looking fantastic. Fifebee and Wowryk were wearing slightly more conservative one-piece suits; Wowryk's a deep blue and Fifebee's a solid red. Wowyk's long hair was free, cascading down her shoulders, the sun bringing out the red colour. Fifebee's hair was still in its bun, her movements stiff and uncomfortable. Wowryk on the other hand flowed like water.  
"We'll see you boys later," Wowryk said, giving a smile as she followed Yanick down the path to the beach.  
Stafford, T'Parief and Jeffery simply stared.  
"Tramps," Jall muttered.  
"They really were quite lovely," Noonan said thoughtfully.  
"Noel…Noel…" Jeffery stuttered.  
"I think there's a song that goes like that," Noonan teased, "A Christmas carol, I believe,"  
"Noel was wearing…"  
"Skimpy clothing?" Stafford asked.  
"Y-yeah," Jeffery breathed.  
"I wouldn't get too excited if I were you," Jall said.  
"Why not?" Jeffery asked, tearing his eyes away from the path.  
"After the way you left her?" Jall crossed him arms, "C'mon, dude. You're dog meat,"  
"We have dog meat, too?" T'Parief perked up, lowing the deer shoulder he'd been about to gnaw on.  
"Uh, no," Stafford said, patting the reptile on the shoulder, "But I checked the pamphlet. There's a really nice swamp not too far from here,"  
T'Parief stared at him.  
"Cuz…y'know," Stafford looked nervous, shifting his weight, "crocodiles and alligators like swamps. And you kinda look…crocodile-ish."  
T'Parief frowned, a slight grumbling growing in his throat.  
"Oh come on!" Stafford snapped, "I'm trying to be helpful here! How am I supposed to know what you'd like? I can't exactly look you up in the Federation Cultural Archives, can I?"  
T'Parief cocked his head.  
"I never considered that," he said, "Nor did I ever consider wallowing in a swamp. You say reptiles on your world enjoy it?"  
"Almost as much as they like gnawing a leg off some unsuspecting camper," Jall said.  
"I'll have to give it a try," T'Parief nodded at Stafford then started in the indicated direction.  
"He meant the wallowing, right?" Jeffery asked, "not the gnawing?"  
"Lord, let's hope so," Stafford muttered.  
"Back to me," Jeffery crossed his arms, "Are ye saying Ah couldn't win Noel back if Ah tried?"  
"You couldn't win her before," Jall said.  
"'If' you tried?" Stafford frowned, "You're saying you might not?"  
"Ah'm saying nothing!" Jeffery said, sitting down on a tree stump. Stafford walked over to the supply pile, rummaging around until he found collapsible chairs for everybody. As he watched, a pair of the furry creatures inhabiting the planet ran out of the supply pile, running at full tilt across the meadow.  
"I guess it would be hard to chase her if you're not even on our ship," Stafford said, making himself comfortable and opening a bottled synthale.  
"Ah guess it would be," Jeffery said defiantly.  
"What's up with you?" Stafford asked, "It's not like you to be so…so…"  
"Ignorant?" Jall offered.  
"Moody," Stafford said.  
"Women have that effect on human men," Noonan observed.

"Dr. Wowryk, may I ask a question?" Fifebee asked, pulling her holo-relay behind her as they approached the beach.  
"We're on leave," Wowryk said, "Call me Noel,"  
"Noel," Fifebee said.  
"What?" Wowryk.  
"I was calling you Noel, as requested,"  
Wowryk rolled her eyes.  
"What's your question?" she asked.  
"I'm surprised at your decision to participate in our solar exposure activity," Fifebee said, "It's not like you to bare so much skin. Indeed, I've noticed on average you display less than 7% of your body. The remaining 93% is covered sufficiently to hide any indication of your breast or waist size 85% of the time,"  
"Did you swallow a calculator, honey?" Yanick cut in, "Don't you have a 'vacation' personality?"  
"I do," Fifebee said, "But we don't have 7 bodybuilders in the vicinity.  
Wowryk chose to ignore that statement.  
"There's nothing wrong with sun tanning," she said, "And besides, I want to torment Jeffery a little,"  
"But Jeffery wants to see you nude," Fifebee frowned, "Why would wearing skimpy clothing torment him?"  
"Fifebee," Yanick said, "Have you noticed what happens to T'Parief when somebody holds chocolate in front of his face?"  
"Or a dog when you hold a steak above his nose," Wowryk added.  
Fifebee brightened.  
"Oh!" she smiled, "I get it. You show them what they want, thus bringing it to mind and making them want it more!"  
"Bingo, honey,"  
Having reached the beach, the ladies spread out their towels, applied skin cream and stretched out to enjoy the rays.  
"Lemmie just check this," Yanick tapped at her tricorder, "Hmmm. That's weird. The UV filters are supposed to let something through for tanning. But for some reason they're blocking far more than they should be. I wonder why?"  
"Who cares?" Wowryk asked, resting her head on her hands, "Just fix it,"  
"Okie dokie,"

Stafford, Jeffery and Noonan were still seated in the meadow, drinking synthale. Well, Noonan wasnn't, of course, but the other two were. Jall had climbed into the men's tent for a snooze, still suffering from the night before.  
"So I see Wowryk's looking pretty relaxed," Stafford said, watching Jeffery carefully for a reaction, "I guess therapy with Yvonnokoff has been going pretty well,"  
"Good for her," Jeffery said sullenly.  
"So did you meet any nice women on the Stallion?" Stafford went on.  
"No, of course not," Jeffery said, swallowing, "Why do ye ask?"  
"Because I've known you for a while, Simon," Stafford said, "And I think it's pretty weird that you're that upset over leaving a ship that you only served on for a month,"  
"I'm not upset," Jeffery said.  
"Yes, you are," Noonan said. He paused.  
"Do you guys smell something burning?" Stafford asked, sniffing at the air.  
Jeffery pointed at Noonan, his jaw dropping.  
Noonan's skin was turning dark red, wisps of steam or smoke curling off him.  
"Oh my!" Noonan exclaimed, grabbing his field generator and turning it to full power. The smoke subsided and his skin regained its former hue.  
"What was that?" Jeffery asked after a moment.  
"Somebody must have adjusted the UV filters," Stafford frowned.  
"No," Jeffery insisted, "I mean why was Noonan-"  
"Look, I don't wanna-"  
"YEEE-HAAWWW!"  
"What the HELL-" Stafford jumped to his feet.  
A heard of young beings had burst from the trees, running helter-skelter across the meadow. A human girl, around 13 years of age, rushed past the spot where the three men were talking, her tiny foot kicking over Jeffery's synthale. An Andorian boy was chasing some kind of local equivalent to a rabbit across the meadow, his mouth pulled into a snarl as he attempted to catch the creature in his teeth. Tellarites, Lemnorians, Xenkethi, Rigilians, Betazoids, Trill and even a Vulcan child or two charged through the clearing, laughing, shrieking and causing general chaos. Almost as quickly as they appeared, they vanished down the path heading for the beach.  
"What the HELL was that?" Jall snarled, emerging from the tent.  
"A very good question," Noonan observed. And very good timing too, he noted.  
As the four looked around in confusion, a middle-aged man emerged from the same trees the children had burst out of. He was clearly tired, as evidenced by his red face, sweaty brow and loud panting. He wasn't in the greatest of shape either, as evidenced by a moderate gut hanging out over his belt.  
"Did you…did you see…" he gasped, throwing an arm over Noonan's shoulder and leaning heavily.  
"A pack of miniature monsters?" Stafford offered.  
"No…they," the man wiped his forehead with Noonan's sleeve. Noonan, his face caught between disgust and amusement, gently eased the man into a chair.  
"They're Starfleet Scouts," he finally forced out, "I'm Darnen, their Scoutmaster,"  
"Scouts?" Jall raised an eyebrow, "Here?"  
"Why?" Stafford asked.  
"It's a camping trip,"  
Stafford suddenly looked about 10 years older as he contemplated the thought of a pack of young beings running amuck through the peaceful, beautiful campground.  
"WHYYY?" he moaned.  
"Well, they are Scouts, ye know," Jeffery shrugged, "Scouts go camping,"  
"But why do they have to be doing it here?" Stafford asked.  
"It was close to the starbase," Darnen said, "Look, I know you're here to relax, but if you could help me catch the little br-, um, children, I'd really appreciate it,"  
"Oh no!" Stafford said, hands on hips, "There is no way I'm going to-"  
"If we help," Noonan said, "We will be able to keep track of them and will be better positioned to keep them from damaging our equipment,"  
"-going to let you handle those monsters on your own!" Stafford finished.

"AIEEE!" Wowyk shrieked, shielding her face from the spray of sand kicked up by a passing Rigellian girl.  
"Where did these kids come from?" Yanick asked, shielding her eyes, "Aww, they look so adorable in those little Starfleet Scouts uniforms,"  
"H-Hey!" Fifebee shouted, flickering in and out as two burly young Brikar knocked into her holo-relay, the device's gyrostabilizers barely able to keep it upright, "Please do exercise caution around sensitive equipment!"  
Putrid spawn Luke cursed, shaking sand out of his diaper, How you could mistake me for one of your devil-children becomes harder and harder to comprehend!  
"Hey!" Jall called, leading Stafford, Noonan, Jeffery and Darnen out of the trees and onto the beach, "Did you see a pack of, oh, never mind. There they are,"  
As they watched, the swarm of about 20 youngsters charged down the beach, somehow finding time to toss stones into the water, poke slimy sea life-forms with sticks and receive at least one minor bite from a sea life-form that rather disliked being poked.  
"Ladies, we need your help," Stafford said.  
"Constantly," Wowryk said dryly.  
"He means with the kids," Jeffery said.  
"What?" Fifebee objected, "Why? I do not wish to spend shore leave with miniature life forms that habitually make a mess of any environment they inhabit!"  
"She swallow a thesaurus?" Darnes asked.  
"C'mon Noel," Stafford prodded, "It'll be a chance to show off those parenting skills you've been working on,"  
"I bet we can catch more kids than you can!" Yanick said, jumping to her feet.  
"You're on!" Jall cried, laughing at Yanick as the two of them started chasing after the kids.  
Stafford raised an eyebrow.  
"Competition can be a healthy morale builder," Noonan offered.  
"Or a way to get bit in the…" Stafford's eyes widened, "Oh shit! T'Parief is lounging somewhere over there!" He started running in the same direction the kids, Jall and Yanick had gone.  
Jumping to her feet, Wowryk caught up with him, leaving Jeffery, Darnen, Noonan and Fifebee trailing behind.  
"And why are you so concerned," Wowryk asked, easily keeping pace, "Do you think T'Parief would hurt them? He's actually very good with kids. The Rengs' baby loves him,"  
"Hurt them?" Stafford shook his head, "No, no. I trust him around kids," he gave a wicked grin, "But they don't know that, and I'd hate to miss the looks on their little faces when they find him!"

"Kenny! Wait up!" Xex, a young Tibarian with red skin and green eyes called. After they left the beach the group of kids had scattered in several directions, Kenny and Xex heading towards a swampier region.  
"I gotta catch this thing!" Kenny called back, running at full tilt after a small, scurrying rodent. With a final lunge, he snagged the animal by the tail. It gave a started 'YIP' of surprise before being engulfed in Kenny's hand.  
"What is it?" Xex asked, looking down at the frightened animal, "Can I eat it?"  
It should be noted that the humanoid form is not the only form to be successful on a number of planets. Scientists can come up with any number of explanations as to why sentient beings on a staggering number of worlds come equipped with two legs, two arms, a mouth, nose, eyes and ears. Some theorize that because life evolves on similar planets with similar living conditions, life must be similar. Others prefer to believe that a long-extinct race known as the 'Preservers' seeded life across the galaxy. And one cannot forget the numerous religions claiming that it is all God's work.  
However, it was perhaps no small amount of selfishness on the part of humanoids that they put far less study into examining why so many planets had beings similar to canines, bovines, equestrians, penguins and squirrels. If, in fact, Federation science had bothered to perform a study, they would have found that squirrels and squirrel-like aliens were far more common on M-Class planets than the standard variety humanoid. Of course, this would result in a number of new theories, ranging from 'The Preservers seeded them so humanoids would have cute animals to keep them company' right up to 'God thinks squirrels are cute'.  
This particular squirrel was in a state of terror, being gripped rather firmly by a Terran 12 year old as he wandered through a dark swamp.  
"Do you see them?" came a voice.  
"Shhh!" Kenny said, freezing in place near the edge of a small pond, crouching on a rock and pulling Xex down with him, "Hear that?"  
They watched through the foliage as two humans, a man and a woman, crept into the area, looking around.  
"No sign of anything," the male said, "Kids these days,"  
"Too bad Sylvia isn't around to help out," the female suggested.  
"I guess," the male said.  
"I wonder what they're looking for," Xex whispered.  
"US, you moron!" Kenny whispered back. He froze.  
"Did the rock just move?" he asked.  
Kenny and Xex jumped to their feet and squealed as the 'rock' shifted, revealing itself to be the head of a very grumpy looking alien with very sharp teeth.  
"AHHHHHH!" the kids screamed, running full tilt past Stafford and Wowryk and out of the swamp, the squirrel alien tossed aside to land in a pile of rotting vegetation.  
"Dammit!" Stafford swore, "Of all the blasted, stupid, idiotic-"  
"I am sorry, Captain," T'Parief said. He was standing there in a pair of swim trunks, mud and slimy water sliding down his skin as he rose to his feet, "I didn't mean to startle them,"  
"Not that!" Stafford waved away T'Parief's apology, "I forgot my camera!"  
"What are you doing?" Wowryk asked, frowning at the half-naked alien.  
"Relaxing," T'Parief said, crossing his thick arms over his well-developed chest, almost as though he were hiding himself from the doctor. (She was more preoccupied with the health concerns of his developing gut, a result of a chocolate fixation T'Parief had been suffering from.)  
"Oh yeah," Stafford cocked his head, "Is it working?"  
"Wonderfully," T'Parief said, settling back down into the scummy water.  
"I'm not sure that's healthy," Wowryk said, wrinkling her nose.

"So, uh, now what?" Ensign Mardsen asked, drumming his fingers on the Engineering panel. Silverado had followed the Stallion out of the hanger bay as was crawling through space on impulse power.  
"Now," Stern looked a little embarrassed, "Er, now we turn off our sensors for 15 minutes so they can hide, then we try to find them,"  
"Hide and seek?" Simmons exclaimed, "You've got to be KIDDING me!"  
"Search and destroy," Kreklor stated firmly from Jall's Ops panel, "It is a standard war game program,"  
"Like they have a chance anyway," Simmons sneered, "An 80 year old Constitution-class? Against us?"  
"A 50 year old Ambassador-class?" Mardsen arched an eyebrow.  
"It's David and Goliath all over again," Simmons grumbled.  
"I hope not," Stern said, "Cuz we'd be Goliath. And he lost,"  
"Ohhh," Simmons frowned, "Alien vs. Predator?"  
"No, too evenly matched," Marsden said.  
"Prophets vs. Pah-Wraiths?"  
"Don't impugn my religion, human!" Rengs cut in.  
"The Borg vs. Humanity?"  
"That makes us the bad guys!" Stern objected, "Look, you idiots, remember that thing at the Academy about not underestimating your foes? We have a ship full of highly skilled Starfleet officers out there, and we can't afford to let our guard down!"

"You idiot!" Sinclair shook her head, glaring over at Tereneth, "This isn't the Jarden nebula! It's the Watasha asteroid belt!"  
"Oh, is it?" Tereneth asked innocently, "That's funny, I could have sworn this was the heading I got from the lady handling Navigation,"  
"Don't you try to pin this on me!"  
"LADIES!" Captain Sinclair shouted. She paused, looked at Tereneth, "Sentient beings of various gender," she amended, "We don't have time to argue! We've got a ship full of highly skilled security officers who are about to hunt us down! I want ideas!"  
"Out-maneuver them," Hurken said immediately, "they are larger (and uglier) than us, but our weapons have both been upgraded to similar output levels,"  
"They just have more of them," Kren muttered.  
"At least they agreed not to use that cannon thingy," Simplot shrugged.  
"They have stronger shields," Hurken went on, "But are more sluggish. Plus, they have a weakness right," he brought up a schematic of the larger vessel, "right here…"

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" Stern said softly, watching the main screen carefully.  
"Darg, any ion trail yet?" Simmons asked.  
Dar'ugal nodded. Sadly, since nobody was watching him for gestures, nobody noticed.  
"Oh well," Stern signed, "Keep looking. We'll find something,"  
Annoyed, Dar'ugal waved his arms, trying to get Stern to notice his reflection on the main screen. As 24th-century science had mastered the art of the anti-reflection coating, this proved rather fruitless. Instead, he started typing on his panel, words appearing on the screen:  
ION TRAIL DETECTED AT 233 MARK 4. DIRECTION OF WATASHA ASTEROID BELT  
"Huh," Stern shrugged, "They must have something clever planned. I was expecting them to go to the Jarden nebula,"

"And the winner is the ladies, with 8 adorable little children recovered!" Yanick shouted as she returned to the campsite, waving her hands over her head.  
"Yippee for you," Jall muttered. He was helping a group of 3 young Vulcans pitch their tent. It wasn't one of the auto-tents; this was one of the old-fashioned manual varieties. At least some organizations were still in favor of making kids learn things the hard way. The Vulcan children however, were really getting on Jall's nerves. They'd started by telling him that his tent jokes were illogical and inappropriate, then started a complex analysis of the weather patters and the tensile strength of the guy lines in order to determine the optimal line length and angle.  
"We've got 7," Jeffery said, leading a little girl by the hand while carrying a loudly protesting Tellarite boy under one arm,"  
"I need a drink," Stafford grumbled, fishing around in the storage pile, finding a cold bottle of synthale and removing the lid.  
"Drinking? In front of the children?" Wowryk asked.  
"Hey," Stafford pointed at her, "If those mating rabbit-things didn't bother then, I don't think a drunk starship captain will!"  
"You're a captain?" a little boy asked.  
"Yup," Stafford said proudly.  
"Wow," the little boy shook his head, "Daddy told me starship captains were all cool…I guess I gotta tell him he's wrong,"  
Stafford gaped at the kid while Wowryk giggled.  
Preparations about the site continued as Stafford downed his drink.  
"So much for bonding," he muttered, tossing back another mouthful, "I manage to get everybody together in one place far from our ship, our jobs and our responsibilities and we end up infested by pack of loud, obnoxious little f-"  
"STOP THAT!"  
Jall, tired of enduring a lecture on the illogic of his sexuality, rushed over to where Yanick was shouting at two boys while Stafford continued to mutter to himself.  
"What are the little bastards up to?" Jall asked.  
"They're tormenting that poor little animal!" Yanick wailed.  
As Jall watched, the taller boy threw a rock at a squirrel-like creature, trying to knock it out of the tree.  
"Hey!" Jall snapped, "Cut that out!"  
The boy looked back at him.  
"You're not the boss of me," he said.  
"I damn well am!" Jall snapped. He grabbed the kid by the ear and started to lead him back to the campsite, "I'm twice as tall as you, and sometimes size DOES matter!"  
"Yeah" Yanick said, her eyes glazing over briefly,  
"C'mon you, back to camp," Jall said, still gripping the ear firmly, "I learned this move from my grandmother," he confided to Yanick as the boy followed, protesting.

Shortly after, the campsite had ceased to be a pristine meadow and had been transformed into a small tent village. The tents Stafford's crew had set up were in the center, surrounded by smaller tents bearing the Starfleet Scouts logo. Stafford, becoming very drunk, was hoping that meant the things were settling down and that there would be no further issues.  
"Uh, Captain," Darnen came up to Stafford looking uncomfortable.  
"BLAAACH!" Stafford belched, leaning back in his lounge chair, "Whassup?"  
"Not that I don't appreciate your help,"  
"Darn right you do," Stafford drawled, "So do I. We're great, aren't we? Letting you screw up our shore leave and all."  
"Um, yes," Darnen shifted his weight, "Uh, we're missing children,"  
Stafford blinked at him.  
"And that's bad?" he asked, confused, "Oh, wait. Missing. I'm sorry. It's good when they go away, but not good when they're missing,"  
"That about sums it up," Jall grumbled. He had ignored the synthale and gone straight for a bottle of synthoholic vodka.  
"How many?" Stafford asked.  
"Uh, 2," Darnen said.  
"T'Parief!" Stafford called, his voice loud and slurred.  
"Uh-huh?"  
At first, Jall and Jeffery almost didn't recognize the security chief. He was slouching, his usually straight posture gone in a gurgle of slumped shoulders. His gut was sticking out even more, his claws dangled by his sides and a relaxed, pleased look was on his face. He even had a crooked, slightly goofy grin on his face.  
"Is he on drugs or something?" Darnen asked quietly.  
Stafford cringed.  
"Ugh, God man!" he cried, "You STINK like…like a swamp!"  
"Ah wonder why?" Jeffery said.  
"It was worth it," T'Parief said, "I have never felt so calm, so relaxed,"  
"Kids have gone missing," Stafford said.  
The change was immediate. Muscles tightened, spine straightened, shoulders moved up, back and down with military precision.  
"Mr. Hyde returns," Jall commented.  
"'I'll start a search at once," T'Parief said, moving off into the trees. His head was forward, tail up to counterbalance as he moved quickly into the trees, once again his normal, alert self.  
"Hate to spoil his relaxation like that," Noonan mused, following to help. No doubt his superb night vision and hunting skills would prove useful.  
"He can wallow in the scum again tomorrow," Stafford grumbled, grabbing another synthale.

"This is where the ion trail leads," Ensign Grant reported. He'd been called up to the bridge to act as Dar'ugal's voice while the silent Barudan was manning tactical. A minor oversight that had already damaged Stern's confidence a little.  
"It's a bunch of rocks," Simmons said, "I don't see any starships around here!"  
"They could be hiding behind one of those rocks," Marsden suggested, "Y'know, found one that has some of those funny sensor-dampening rocks in it,"  
"Like the ones in your head?" Simmons muttered.  
"Keep scanning," Stern ordered.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Simplot asked. The bridge was dark, all power except for life-support and another, minor piece of technology powered down in order to make the ship easier to hide.  
"Positive," Gonzales replied, "I overhead Sylvia and Jeffery talking about this when they were working on our sensors,"  
"But Sylvia's on that ship," Kren pointed out, "Don't you think she'd tell them about this?"  
"She probably has," Gonzalez shrugged, "Told the senior staff that is. The question is whether the security officers know about it,"  
"Let's find out," Simplot said, rising from her chair and striking a dramatic pose, "Take us in!"  
"Sure, just give me about 10 minutes," Sinclair said.  
"10 minutes?"  
"Older ships don't warm up as quickly as the new ones do!" Sinclair explained, daintily examining one of the heavy gold rings on her fingers.  
"Sort of like men," Tereneth said brightly.

Silverado eased her way into the asteroid field, her sensors carefully probing the area, searching for the slightest hint of the smaller ship they were pursuing. They passed by a large asteroid and scanned it carefully, not realizing that parked right behind the hunk of rock the Stallion was even now powering up her systems. The phase-delayed sensor beams they were generating with a forward sensor array continued broadcasting, creating a complete dead zone in Silverado's sensors. Running on thrusters she eased in behind the larger ship, right where the exhaust from the impulse and warp engines tended to confuse sensor readings anyway. It also just happened to be the place where there was a gap in the phaser coverage.

"Ready?" Simplot asked.  
"Ready," Hurken grunted, "We'll whip those clean-water wimps into shape!"  
"Clean water?" Tereneth whispered to Sinclair.  
"Tellarites look down on races that do not use mud-baths," Sinclair whispered back, "somebody about fear of a shiny coat,"  
"Fire!" Simplot giggled giddily, a happy kick sending her command chair spinning.  
Hurken fired, the ship's weakened phasers spearing right into Silverado's aft shields.

T'Parief surged through the forest, carefully following his nose as he followed the somewhat sickening scent of children. They'd already left the general area of the camp site and passed further than any of the children had managed to wander previously.  
"This way," Noonan said, gesturing to the right.  
To T'Parief's complete lack of surprise, the first officer had shown no problem in keeping up with T'Parief's rapid pace. Nor did he seem to have any trouble finding his way in the steadily darkening forest. T'Parief had seen Noonan working during power outages when the ship's corridors had been pitch black and he'd seen him move almost quicker than the eye could see. What was a little surprising was that Noonan seemed to have an even more refined sense of smell than T'Parief. It wasn't until after they'd changed direction that T'Parief noticed that the scent was moving off in a new direction.  
Noonan also saw the dead tree across their path before T'Parief.  
"AARGH!" the reptile squawked, rolling as he hit the ground, pain shooting through his ankle.  
"Are you all right?" Noonan asked.  
"Fine. Just damaged my pride," T'Parief hissed in pain as he put weight back on his left foot.  
"And sprained your ankle, I think," Noonan said.  
"The scent turns again here," Noonan went on, after making sure T'Parief was still capable of movement, "It's almost heading-"  
"Back to camp," T'Parief finished, "Perhaps the children were able to make their way back,"  
"Maybe," Noonan said, "But something really doesn't feel right about this,"  
"I agree," T'Parief's tongue shot out, tasting the air nervously. Of course, since he used his nose for smelling rather than his tongue it was more of a gesture than anything. One he had picked up from his father, "We should head back,"  
"I think you're right," Noonan said, "Now, shall we move on, or simply stand here agreeing with each other all night?"  
Shooting him a dirty look, which he was certain Noonan would see in the dark light, T'Parief started limping back towards the camp.

"Shields down to 80%!" Grant cried out, "What's happening! Who's shooting at us! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"  
"Shut up!" Stern shouted, "It's practice! Their phasers couldn't kill a fly!"  
"Where are they?" Rengs cried, "I have nothing on sensors!"  
The ship shook again. Even though the Stallion's phasers were turned down, the computer used the thrusters and inertial dampening fields to simulate a read battle.  
"They're hitting us from behind!" Marsden called from engineering, "If we don't get them off our tail they're gonna be able to pick us apart!"  
"Rengs! Evasive!" Stern ordered.  
"What do you think I've been doing?" Rengs shot back, "They must be matching every move!"  
"All thrusters! Rotate 180 degrees on the Z-axis," Stern ordered. It was of Stafford and T'Parief's favorite maneuvers, spinning the ship like a top to bring the forward phaser cannon to bear on an enemy ship.  
They weren't using that weapon in the war game, but as Silverado spun around even the Stallion's superior maneuverability couldn't keep them in the sensor weak spot. Stallion spun right into plain sight on the viewscreen, her torpedo tubes flashing as they launched a torpedo.  
"They're using an inverse phase-delay to jam our sensors!" Kreklor reported from Ops, "And were hiding in an area of weak sensor coverage. I've compensated!" The ship rocked as the torpedo hit.  
"Forward shields at 95%," Grant cried, "Aft down to 60%,"  
"Return fire already!" Simmons yelled.  
Phasers and torpedoes flashed between the two ships; both of them scoring several direct hits.

"Shields at 75%!" Hurken reported, "And they think they're tougher? Hah! We'll rip their intermix chamber out through their…"  
And so on, and so forth.  
"Evasive!" Kren ordered from Environmental Control, "Get us behind them again!"  
"I'm trying," Terenth replied, "they keep spinning around!"  
"Then go under," Simplot said, "And concentrate fire on their ventral phaser array,"  
It was a bad move.  
Tereneth handled the Stallion with the grace of a swan, pulling her through a series of clean maneuvers, dodging two torpedoes and cutting below Silverado's saucer.  
Rengs, on the other hand, was an energy weapons expert, not a helmsman. Having just gotten comfortable with the Z-axis rotation that was keeping the Stallion off their tails, he pitched the ship forward, trying to keep a line-of-site on the Stallion as it moved below them.  
CLANGGGGGG!  
The hulls of both ships rang as their shields collided. The energy barriers held long enough to transform what would have been a fatal crash into a glancing blow, as the Stallion bounced off Silverado's lower saucer, spinning out of control as her saucer clipped Silverado's engineering hull.

"There y' are!" Jeffery cried, running up as T'Parief and Noonan returned to the campsite.  
"Simon, what's going on?" Noonan asked. Everything seemed fairly calm, but Jeffery was in a state of panic.  
"10 more children gone!" Jeffery cried, "Along with the Captain and the ladies!"  
"Gone?" T'Parief asked, "Gone where?"  
"Hauled off by a pack of…I dunno what they were," Jeffery went on. Noonan moved quickly to the supply pile to fish out a medical kit, with which he quickly repaired T'Parief's ankle.  
"Where did they take them?"  
"That way," Jeffery pointed, "Jall and I were gonna follow, but we figured…"  
"That you'd wait for us, cowering in your own fear?"  
"Something like that,"  
T'Parief looked around. Darnen and the remaining Scouts were huddled in the largest tent, several flashlights highlighting their location. The other tents were empty, flaps flapping floppily in the breeze.  
"We could call the Starbase for help," Noonan suggested. He tapped his comm-badge, which emitted only a faint gurgle.  
"Jammed," Noonan frowned, "How odd,"  
T'Parief had located the phaser he'd used earlier to kill the deer, along with a set of infrared goggled.  
"Let us stone," he said.  
"I think you mean 'rock'," Jall corrected.  
"Either works for me right now," Jeffery muttered.

They followed the scents of Stafford and the others to a nearby cave, T'Parief making a mental note to ask the Captain just what kind of cologne he used. Perhaps Yanick would appreciate a more human scent…  
"Do we go in?" Jall asked.  
"We could stand here all night and see what comes out," Jeffery suggested.  
"We have missing crewmen," Noonan reminded them, "I think we'd best get started with this rescue mission,"  
They crept down a narrow passage, the sounds of dripping water and moving air keeping them company. After about a hundred meters the passage widened, opening into a large chamber. On the floor, bound and gagged, were the missing children and officers. Fifebee's holo-emitter sat in a corner, the red 'Out of Range' light indicating that they were too deep underground for the signal from the starbase computer to penetrate. Several squirrel-aliens skittered around the edge of the cavern, retreating from Noonan as he moved forward to pull the gag out of Stafford's mouth.  
"Watch out!" Stafford cried, "It's them! They're-"  
Noonan missed the last word as his legs shot out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. His arms were pushed down and before he knew it we was flat on his back, carefully restrained. Crashes and growling from either side told him T'Parief, Jall and Jeffery where being subject to the same treatment.  
He raised his head, trying to catch sight of their assailants.  
"Well this is just great!" Stafford slurred, obviously still drunk, "I try to get us to have a nice trip together, and we all get kidnapped by a band of f**king squirrels! I just can't win! I give up! The rest of you can f**king ROT for all I care!"  
Squirrels?  
"Greetings, Federation creature," a tiny, high-pitched voice resembling a helium-sniffing birthday clown said. As Noonan watched a black squirrel-alien scampered over and seated itself on his chest.  
"Wow," Noonan said, "That's a surprise!"

"Oh this is just PERFECT!" Simmons shook his head. The ship was drifting, the collision having shorted out the shields and taken the inertial dampeners off-line. On the viewscreen they could see the Stallion spinning slowly through space, one relatively small edge of her saucer dented in from the hit.  
"The Captain's going to kill us," Stern said blankly, sitting in the command chair in a state of shock, "He's going to kills us slowly and painfully,"  
"If he doesn't," Sylvia said, sounding very cross, "Then I will,"

"Well, this is just perfect," Simplot sat in her command chair, annoyed. The Stallion's shields were down, but the damage otherwise had been contained. On the screen they could see Silverado drifting, a two deck high gouge in her engineering hull leaking gases into space.  
"We could just leave them here," Hurken suggested.  
Simplot considered it.  
"Nooo," she said slowly, "Lock a tractor beam on them and set a course for Starbase 45. Full impulse."  
"Does this mean we won?" Tereneth asked.  
"If by 'won' you mean we're all dead," Kren replied, "Then yes. We won."  
"Dead?"  
"According to the computer," Kren nodded, "If that had been a real battle, our shields would have been too weak to protect us from the collision. Our saucer would have gone right into their warp core and killed all of us instantly,"  
"Ooohhh," Tereneth sunk lower in her seat, "Bummer,"

"What do you want?" Noonan asked the squirrel, "Oh, and I am Matthew Noonan, by the way,"  
The squirrel emitted a string of chirps, which no human mouth could possibly repeat.  
"But you can call me Chip," he added, "And as for what we want, well…"  
Chip reached into a tiny knapsack and pulled out a tiny padd and a pair of eyeglasses. Slipping on the latter he began to read.  
"We the squirrels of Ramson 6 hereby make the following charges against the United Federation of Planets, on behalf of squirriloid beings across the galaxy," Chip read from the padd, "That your Federation Marines participated in an attack upon the Cutipythans of Ridalus 4 on Stardate 50277. That the crew of the Federation Starbase Waystation engaged in a mass slaughter of Snigglesnooshes on Stardate 57553 and that your Starfleet Scouts have engaged in 4 counts of assault upon us here on Ramson 6 as of this Stardate, 58194," Chip adjusted his eyeglasses, "Not to mention the countless undocumented attacks and killings of squirrels on your home planet as perpetrated by your canine slaves,"  
"Really?" Noonan cocked his head, "That's fascinating,"  
"We demand immediate reparations be made!" shouted another squirrel, this one perched on Yanick's head, "And we demand the immediate removal of your starbase from our planet!"  
"You…what?" Noonan shook his head, trying to clear it, "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. Starbase 45 is a peaceful outpost!"  
"They why have they been sending down attack teams to this place for the past 5 years?" demanded Chip.  
"Attack teams?" Noonan laughed, "Those are campers! They're here to enjoy the beautiful planet you have!"  
Chip's little squirrel face lost its expression of fury. He cocked his head.  
"Really?" he asked, "Well, I suppose that explains why you haven't beamed down an invading army to pillage our trees and rape our women,"  
Frowning as the physical impossibilities flittered through his head, Noonan smiled at Chip.  
"On behalf of the Federation," he said, "I apologize for any damage done. I'm sure a negotiating team can help us come to an agreement that would benefit both of us,"  
Chip scampered off to confer with the other squirrels, their high-pitched chirping giving several of the hostages headaches until finally it came to a stop.  
"Very well," Chip said, "We'll release you and welcome your negotiators. But reparations will still have to be made!"

Captain's Log: Stardate 58196.6,  
"Negotiations between the Federation and the squirrels of Ramson 6 have been completed. We get to keep our starbase here and use the planet for shore leave, as long as no squirrels are injured. We also have to send them monthly shipments of peanuts and acorns,"  
"Shore leave wasn't a total loss. Darnen and his Starfleet Scouts were taken back to the starbase to undergo mandatory training for their 'Animal Compassion' merit badges. The rest of us managed to get some camping done, finally. Teaching T'Parief to water-ski was definitely the highlight of the trip…I've never seen such spectacular wipe outs! He tried to jump the wake and wound up spinning across the water like a beach ball. I hope he's ok…"  
"Anyway, we've returned to the starbase and are just getting ready to return to the ship,"

"Well, that was fun," Yanick said, checking out her tan in a reflective surface.  
"What?" T'Parief asked, tilting his head, still trying to get the last of the water out of his ears.  
"Nothing,"  
"Hi, Captain,"  
Stafford and Noonan had been leading the way back to the ship, but they'd be met by Stern and the Hazardous Team shortly before they reached Silverado's docking bay.  
"What's up, Lieutenant?" Stafford asked, "Enjoy your shore leave?"  
"Uh, yeah,"  
"I gotta hand it to you," Stafford went on, "that camping trip was a great idea. We had some problems at first, yeah, but in the end everything went smoothly,"  
"Right, er, Captain," Stern swallowed, "Uh, remember when your father was aboard?"  
"How could I forget," Stafford replied.  
"Well, he told us this story about how you borrowed your mother's hover-car once and kinda returned it worse condition than it had been…"  
"That's putting it mildly," Stafford said, "Some idea crashed into me. Smashed mom's hover-car all to hell. Dad was pretty forgiving about the whole thing though."  
"Uh, right," Stern said, just as they rounded the last corner and came to the windows looking out over the Silverado, "Um, just keep that in mind,"  
"Why, what for…" Stafford trailed off as he saw the damage to his ship. Starbase crews were already hard at work, but the hull on one side of the secondary hull had been gouged right in, smashed metal and twisted structural members visible where a line of Deck 23 windows should have been. His eyes darkened and his mouth opened and closed as he tried and failed to speak.  
"You," Noonan said, patting Stern on the shoulder, "Are in big trouble, young man,"

End.


	6. Vengeance of the Vertically Challenged

Star Traks: Silverado

3.6 "Vengeance of the Vertically Challenged"

"You know," Ensign Simmons said, his voice slightly tinny as it came over the helmet radio, "I'm beginning to think that maybe the whole thing was a bad idea,"  
"Really?" Lieutenant Stern replied dryly. The bulk of his attention was devoted to operating the gamma-welder he was using to attach a hull plate to the appropriate spot on Silverado's engineering hull.  
"Yeah," Simmons went on, having just finished replacing a twisted structural member, "Next time we should use the shuttles in the war game too. Would have given us the advantage in numbers,"  
"NEXT TIME?" Stern snapped, tempted to see how much Simmons would enjoy being welded to the hull when Silverado left the starbase, "NEXT TIME!?"  
"You don't have to get all upset about it," Simmons grunted.  
"There won't be a 'next time,' Stern said firmly, "I think we just need to learn from this experience and grow!"  
"As in 'learn NOT to trick our senior officers out of their starships?" Stafford's voice came over the comm channel.  
"Something like that," Mardsen broke in. He was painting the hull plates Stern had already welded into place.  
"Well, I hope you learn your lesson quickly," Stafford went on, "Because I want to leave dock soon!"  
"You could get the starbase crew to-" Simmons started.  
"Stern?" Stafford interrupted.  
"Yes, sir?"  
"I'll be advising T'Parief to use Simmons in a very unpleasant security drill if he says another word,"  
"That is SO not fair!" Simmons objected.  
There was a click as the channel cut out.

"Mr. T'Parief, were you listening?" Stafford asked.  
"I was," the security chief replied, "Would you prefer we use him for martial arts training, forensic investigation training, or body cavity search training?"  
"You pick," Stafford waved a hand, settling into his chair.  
There wasn't really much of a reason for the senior staff to be on the bridge, what with the ship being parked in the starbase and whatnot. But they should have departed a day ago. Indeed, they would have departed, if a certain security team hadn't 'borrowed' the ship to settle a squabble with the crew of the USS Stallion by playing a war game. A war game that resulted in an unfortunate collision between the two ships.  
"There goes the Stallion," Jall commented. They watched on the screen as the smaller ship, having sustained slightly less damage (and having been repaired by a far more efficient and competent starbase engineering team), glided through the space-doors and disappeared from view.  
"Off to shuttle supplies, no doubt," Stafford mused.  
"Well yeah," Yanick said, "In a little ship like that? I'd want to stay inside the Federation where it's nice and safe,"  
"I wouldn't mind keeping this ship where it's nice and safe!" stated Jall, leaning back in his seat.  
"I'm sure we'll encounter many dangerous," Noonan looked at his padd, "gas clouds on our survey mission,"  
"Yippee," Yanick grinned.  
"Why are you excited?" Fifebee piped in, curious, "We haven't even started the survey and the rest of the crew is already bored. I'm curious as to why you aren't"  
"Because gas clouds are fun to fly through!" Yanick said gleefully, "You like, totally fly the ship through really fast, right? Then you turn around and see the big mess left of the cloud when you come out the other side! It's like…it's like…"  
"Crash-test dummies in space?" Jall suggested.  
"Sticking your hand in a waterfall?" Stafford opined.  
"Flying a starship through gaseous clouds?" Fifebee offered.  
"Yeah! That's it!" Yanick said.  
Everybody exchanged glances.  
"Which one?" T'Parief pried gently.  
"The third one," Yanick said, "About the gas clouds,"  
"So flying a starship through a gas cloud is like," Fifebee frowned, "flying a starship through a gas cloud?"  
"Uh-huh!" Yanick nodded eagerly.  
"Why nobody has actually done a scientific study on blonds yet is beyond me," Fifebee muttered, turning back to her console.

"Have they finished repairs yet?"  
"Yes, sir. The last member of the repair team is just…uh, stand by. Sir, the last member of the repair team is standing by the airlock door, thrusting his pelvis towards the bay windows,"  
"From that ship, I'm really not surprised. At least we don't have to recall them to give them the news,"

"Repairs complete, sir," Acting Chief Engineer Sage reported from the engine room.  
"Excellent," Stafford said, rising to his feet and glancing around the bridge. Fifebee and T'Parief were focused on their stations, Jall was arguing quietly over the comm with somebody below decks and Yanick was tucking her latest magazine padd, 'Home and Starship' into a handy storage pouch on her chair.  
"Clear all moorings," Stafford ordered, "Secure airlocks, confirm we are floating free,"  
"I'm wearing boxers today," Jall cut in, having muted his other conversation, "Does that count?"  
"Arrgghhh," Stafford rolled his eyes, "Yanick, take us out – carefully! If we knock the space doors off their track again Tunny's gonna skin us alive!"  
"It's not MY fault they were opening too slow," Yanick protested.  
"In Yanick's defense," Noonan said, seated calmly in his seat, "The navigational deflector fields should not have been activated prior to exiting the starbase,"  
"Whatever," Stafford sat back down, "Ahead slow, thrusters at-"  
"We're being hailed by Admiral Tunney," T'Parief reported, "He's ordering us to stay put,"  
"WHAT?"  
"And ordering you to report to his office, immediately," T'Parief finished.  
"Oh that just SUCKS!" Stafford moaned, "We're practically out the door and now we have to turn around and come back in?"  
"It's like we're a puppy!" Yanick said, "In again, out again, in again-"  
"Stupid Tunny," Stafford griped, "Has to wait until the last minute, can't do it during the week we were sitting here, has to be-"  
"This IS an open channel, Captain!" Tunney's voice came from the speakers.  
"A perfectly wonderful man to work for," Stafford finished without missing a beat, "Jall, buddy, do me a favor; secure the moorings and prepare airlocks for disembarkment,"  
"OK, sweety-pie," Jall replied.  
"Don't push it," Stafford said.  
"That's not what-'  
"If you say 'That's not what he said', I'm going to punch you!"

Duffel bag over one shoulder, Simon Jeffery moved into the administration section of Starbase 45.  
Starbase 45 had a crew and commanding officer of its own, Jeffery knew. They sat up in Station Operations, drinking raktagino and eating tiramisu all day, secure in their huge space station and calm, tamed region of Federation territory. Starbase life has to be the cushiest, Jeffery mused.  
Admiral Tunney, while being the flag officer for the sector, left most of the starbase operations to the starbase crew. He was more used to living on a planet and running things from a distance, but he'd recently moved from Earth to Starbase 45 to get 'more involved'. He had his own issues to deal with; being the man giving the orders to several starships including but not limited to those that made up the Operation Salvage fleet was no easy task. Tunney was also the man who had initiated the transfer program that had seen Jeffery and Sylvia visit different starships to correct their 'refurbishment issues'.  
Jeffery arrived at Tunney's office and prepared himself to encounter The Secretary. He didn't know her name, rank or even her species. He just knew that she was mean.  
"Look, I have a meeting with Tunney!" cried a terrified voice from within, "Believe me, he WANTS to see me!"  
"Meeting rebooked," the 5'5, blue skinned, horned and skull-plated alien grunted, "Try tomorrow,"  
"But-"  
"TOMORRRRRROOOOWWWWWW!" the creature bellowed, the force of her shout blasting the unfortunate intruder out the door and into the corridor, barely missing Jeffery.  
"Mr…Jeffery…." The Secretary panted, though whether that was because of her bellowing or because of her species Jeffery wasn't sure, "I was…about…to call…you. Go…right…in…"  
"Uh, thanks," Jeffery gulped. Well, that made that easier.  
Wait, why did Tunney want to see him? Was he in trouble?

"Simon!" Stafford exclaimed as Jeffery walked in, "What are you doing here?"  
"Ah wanted to talk to-"  
"Yes, I know," Tunney said, "Sit down, Mr. Jeffery. This will just take a moment,"  
"But-"  
"This is a recording we received several hours ago from a long-range probe scouting Sector 478-B," Tunney said without pre-amble. His office was comfortably well-appointed; desk, chair, Reality-Definition viewscreen. The paneling was the standard Starfleet Tan Office, with a window looking out into the cavernous hanger bay. Jeffery was surprised to see several starship models in a display case, including models of the Silverado, the Stallion, the Elfman and several others.  
A video recording, grainy and of poor quality, began to play. The scene was obviously being shot in space, not far from a planet. Stafford and Jeffery watched as the planet grew closer. It seemed a standard Class-M, but something about the surface didn't quite seem right. It almost seemed to ripple, like oil on water.  
A starship burst into view, causing Stafford to jump a little in his seat. It was an oddly-shaped vessel, with a bulbous forward hull, dog-cone-like protrusion emerging from the mid hull and two compact nacelles behind it. Tunney paused the image.  
It was the ship that Sylvia's attempted kidnappers had escaped in.  
"Ye found them," Jeffery murmured.  
"Them?" Stafford asked, "Who? And is that scale accurate?" he pointed at a row of numbers along the side of the image, "That ship's pretty small-"  
"But from the number of windows it looks like it should be big," Jeffery fnished, "Maybe they just like small windows?"  
Indeed, there were easily 10 rows of windows visible, with indication that there was close to 15 decks, but according to the scale and size readings the ship was maybe 5 or 6 decks high. Jeffery briefed Stafford on the details of his earlier encounter with the ship while on board the Stallion.  
"Watch this," Tunney said after Jeffery had finished, un-pausing the playback.  
The screen turned to static.  
"Well," Tunney looked a little embarrassed, cleared his throat and grinned weakly, "I rather thought the probe being destroyed would be a bit more dramatic than that. But you get the picture,"  
"Sooo," Stafford leaned forward, "You stopped us from leaving because you're going to send us on a mission to catch Sylvia's would-be kidnappers?"  
"Actually, no," Tunney said, "If we chased every being that tried to kidnap an AI like Sylvia, Data, Fifebee, Larkin or B-4, why, we'd have the entire fleet caught up in police work," he chuckled softly to himself.  
"Then what's the deal?"  
"We're sending you to investigate that," Tunney fiddled with his controls again, bringing the video of the planet back.  
"A planet?" Stafford whined, "But we've been to plenty of those!"  
"Not like this one," Tunney said, "The reading from the probe, you know, before it was blasted to pieces, indicated some very strange temporal anomalies,"  
"Time travel? No, no and no!" Stafford shook his head, "Look, we're way under our time travel quota for a ship on its third year out and we'd really like to keep it that way!"  
"Then you'll have to be careful," Tunney shrugged, "But you're going to go explore that planet whether you like it or not,"  
"But-"  
"Oh, and evacuate all non-essential personnel. If you do end up thrown back in time we may as well have as few MIAs, uh, 'temporal refugees' as possible,"  
"But-"  
"I'm not sending any other ship," Tunney said firmly, "The Stallion or the Elfman couldn't stand up to that ship, the Vendome is too far away and the Montreal just blew out her plasma conduits again. You people, and this just goes to show the pathetic quality of the ships under my flag, have the best chance of figuring out that planet and dealing with those kidnappers if they show up,"  
Stafford was quiet.  
"All non-essential personnel?" he asked.  
"All," Tunney said.  
"How far away is this planet?"  
"2 weeks,"  
"Even our bar staff?" Stafford asked, eyes wide.  
"Everybody!"  
"It's going to be a LOONG trip," Stafford sighed, picking up the mission briefing padd, "But you can count on us,"  
"Of course I can," Tunney said, fingers of his left hand carefully crossed behind his back. He reached his other hand foreword to shake Stafford's as the captain departed.  
After a moment, Tunney blinked and turned to Jeffery.  
"Why are you still here?"  
"Well, uh, Admiral," Jeffery swallowed, "Ah've been waiting for me travel orders to head out to the USS Papineau. Y'know, for the next part of me mission,"  
"Mission?" Tunney frowned, "Oh, you mean the starship repair effort Sylvia was working on,"  
"Aye," Jeffery was confused, "Sylvia?"  
"Oh, what an embarrassing misunderstanding," Tunney sighed, "How could I have prevented this? Perhaps I should have been clearer on the orientation memo-"  
"Sir?" Jeffery prodded.  
"That mission was offered to Sylvia," Tunney explained, looking as though he'd sat on something sharp, "You were attached to her as her assistant,"  
"WHOT?"  
"I'm afraid, Mr. Jeffery, now that Sylvia's returned to Silverado there's really no mission anymore and that your services are no longer required,"  
"But…but…what do I do now?"  
"Well," Tunney interlaced his fingers, "First, I'd hope that you didn't burn any bridges with your old crew, seeing as how your permanent posting is still currently listed as Chief Engineer, USS Silverado. Second, I'd suggest you hurry. Stafford will no doubt be in a hurry to leave dock,"

"I really don't want to leave dock," Stafford said.  
He was pacing in a small lounge on Deck 13, in the interconnecting dorsal or 'neck' between the saucer and engineering hulls. Silverado's 'neck' contained the impulse engines, forward torpedo launchers and the heavily shielded deuterium storage tanks.  
Along with some minor crew amenities, like the lounge.  
Looking out the row of narrow windows lining the outer wall, Stafford and Noonan could see hundreds of officers, crewmembers, family members and support staff as they made their way down the gantries leading from Silverado's airlocks into the starbase. He could see Samantha and Mary, two of the waitresses from Unbalanced Equations, arguing with one of the starbase personnel that had been pressed into service finding accommodations for Silverado's crew. He could see Rengs Meris bidding a tearful goodbye to her husband, their infant son seated in a stroller next to her.  
"Sad, isn't it?" Sylvia said.  
"I disagree," Noonan replied, watching several of Fifebee's science staff as they carried sample containers and data modules down the gangway, "Every being down there is one less potential victim should something befall this ship,"  
"Why is our science staff leaving, anyway?" Stafford asked, "How are we supposed to study a strange planet without a science staff?"  
"All departments are being scaled back to essential officers only," Noonan said, "Lieutenant Fifebee and Ensign Burke will be heading up the department in the meantime, along with 3 supporting crewmen,"  
"I guess we don't really need astrophysics or stellar cartography for a planetary survey," Stafford agreed, "Hey!" he pointed down to where Nurse Veeneman was carting a large potted plant into the starbase, "That belongs in the arboretum! That's Starfleet property!"  
"Um, I asked her to take care of it," Sylvia piped in, "We had a really hard time getting it to grow, and I'd really hate for it to be tossed through time or something,"  
"Right," Stafford sighed. He paused for a moment, watching the streams of people leaving, "I agree with Sylvia. It's sad,"  
"Admiral Tunney feels the risk to them is too great," Noonan reminded him, "Evacuating non-essential staff is hardly a novel concept,"  
"Maybe so," Stafford said, "But he's evacuating the ship based on the possibility that this temporal thingy MIGHT have something to do with time travel and we MIGHT end up tossed in time and MIGHT not be able to get back!"  
"Chris has a point," Sylvia said, "Don't forget that this mission MIGHT take a long time and without the rest of the engineering staff Sage MIGHT not be able to keep me up and running and we MIGHT end up with problems down the road,"  
They watched the exodus in silence for several minutes.  
"It's just not the same with everybody gone," Stafford sighed, "At least you're back, Sylvia. But without all of them," he gestured out the window, "it's like a bar after last call. It's still there, and there are still a few people, but you just know it's time to leave,"  
"Now you're comparing me to a sleazy watering hole with beer on the floor and drunken idiots everywhere," Sylvia's voice was somewhat less than friendly, "I'm not really feeling the love here, Chris!"  
"You're like the bartender, Sylvia," Stafford went on, not really paying attention, "The place is there without you, but it's just not worth going to. But if you are there, you need the crowds to keep the place going. You need them, they need you. But in the end you're just one more person to come and go,"  
"Awww," Sylvia sighed, "That's sort of sweet. I think. In a very messed up way,"  
"Now this is interesting," Noonan cut in, "Somebody is trying to get on board," he pointed.  
Indeed, halfway up the gangway leading to the saucer airlock, somebody was going against the flow. Suitcases and carry-bags were pushed aside as men, women and children were forced to make room for somebody very determined to push his or her way through,"  
"Somebody must have left the water running in his quarters," Stafford dismissed the spectacle, "Come on, let's go to the bridge. At least up there we'll have some familiar faces that AREN'T rushing in the opposite direction!"

"Now, please remember," Wowryk said, holding Luke, tightly, afraid to let him go, "He really doesn't like baby food, if you try to give him anything mushy he's likely to throw it at you-"  
Oh yes, and you'd be ever so grateful if somebody offered YOU mushed peas! Luke, AKA Lord Stalart of Arcania thought derisively.  
"He likes to go exploring, so if you find him missing your best bet is to check the Jefferies tubes and maintenance crawlways," Wowryk went on.  
"I'm sure we'll be OK," replied Nurse Veeneman. With the reduced crew only part of Wowryk's medical staff was staying on board. That being Wowryk, Kerry and a couple of med-techs.  
"I hope so," Wowryk sighed, reluctantly handing Luke over to the other woman.  
Finally! Free! My time has come! Stalart cackled to himself, clapping his hands.

The situation on the bridge wasn't a lot better.  
"Sylvia, don't you DARE give it to him! Recycle it now!"  
"I'm sorry, Trish, but you didn't order. I can't get rid of it for you just like that!"  
"Yes, please don't," T'Parief said, "I would really like to eat it,"  
"You have a medical condition!" Yanick snapped, placing her relatively frail body between T'Parief and the replicator, upon which sat a very large, very tasty looking chocolate bar,"  
Jall, watching the fun, was chuckling. He'd replicated the chocolate partly as a way to bug T'Parief and partly because he himself was having something of a chocolate craving at the moment.  
"Jall, this isn't funny!" Yanick snapped, "You tell Sylvia to put that in the matter reclaimater right now!"  
"But I want to eat it!" Jall protested.  
"Jall, you're being an annoying jerk!"  
"The very essence of Jall, one might say," Fifebee added from where she was observing the exchange.  
"That's not the essence," Jall said, "Just a side effect,"  
A low growl started in T'Parief's throat.  
"Oh, no you don't!" Yanick snapped, putting one hand over his mouth and the other on his nose and pushing him firmly back, "Chocolate makes you loopy! And if you think I'm spending the night alone in our quarters while you hallucinate about eating fluffy bunnies then YOU HAVE ANOTHER THINK COMING!"  
"She's very brave," Fifebee observed.  
"I see it's begun," Noonan remarked as he and Stafford stepped out of the turbolift.  
"Figures T'Parief would end up dating a farm girl," Stafford quipped, "She knows how to handle animals of all sizes!"  
T'Parief turned slowly away from the replicator, fixing his red eyes on Stafford.  
"Bad choice of words," Stafford said quickly, "I'll just go to my ready room now!"  
He slipped past the security chief and through the ready room doors.  
"That was rude," Yanick said, taking the opportunity given by T'Parief's distraction to toss the chocolate bar at Jall," But he's right," she slipped a hand up to T'Parief's face and pulled it around to face her, "I do know how to handle…wild animals…"  
Everybody else looked faintly sick.  
"Has anybody figure out yet how they-" Fifebee whispered to Noonan.  
"Best not to think about it," Noonan said quickly.  
The science console beeped. Fifebee moved back and took her seat, tapping at the panels.  
"That's strange," she said.  
"What is it?" Noonan asked.  
"Energy surge," Fifebee said, "Very minor, Deck 26,"  
"Internal scanners?"  
"They're showing all's well," Fifebee reported.  
Noonan shrugged.  
"I'll send T'Parief to check it out," he decided, "I doubt he'll find anything, but at least it'll distract him from his cocoa cravings."

"OK folks!" Lieutenant Sage said happily, "Frit, I want you to keep an eye on the warp core. Word has it we're in for some sustained high-speed cruising. Frat, keep an eye on the nacelles and plasma conduits. Frak, you're on glitch patrol-"  
"OK folks," Simon Jeffery snapped, storming into engineering, "Party's over. Sage, go to bed. Yer on Delta shift again. We've got a long trip ahead of us. Ah want Frit on glitch patrol with Sylvia, Frak on nacelles and-"  
"What do you think you're doing here?" Sage demanded.  
"Taking back my job as Chief Engineer," Jeffery shot back, "Do ye have a problem with that?"  
"Well, sort of," Sage gulped, "I kinda liked it-"  
"Well Ah've got a problem with it too!" Jeffery went on, "But this is the way it is, so get lost!"  
"Simon!" Sylvia said pleasantly, her audio sensors having picked up the increased shouting, "You've decided to come back! Oh, that's so delightful! It'll be nice to keep working with you-"  
"Computer, override audio in Main Engineering, authorization Jeffery Haggis three two seven," Jeffery snapped.  
Everybody, from the midget engineers to Sage to the quasi-intelligent door AIs looked at Jeffery in shock. Nobody, NOBODY had EVER used a command override against Sylvia. The command override protocols were built to bypass the computer's personality subroutines, as they were integral to the security of the ship. But to cut Sylvia off in such a fashion!  
`The Master Systems display opposite the warp core flickered, the detailed schematic of the ship vanishing to be replaced with five words written in block letters.  
THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR, SIMON!  
Then it went blank.

Captain's Log, Stardate 78203.6:

"We're on course for the weird planet we need to investigate. Since 'weird planet we need to investigate' takes too long to say in standard conversation, we've designated it DeLorea 2. Y'know, after that car in that time travel movie. We thought about Eloius or something, from that other time travel book, but Noonan pointed out that the Eloi were being eaten, or something silly like that. Right. I'm sure he's a real expert on eating people!"  
"Anyway, we've barely been in warp drive for an hour and somebody's already managed to piss Sylvia off,"

"How DARE he?" Sylvia said for at least the 12th time, "How DARE he treat me like that!"  
"Look, I know Sage can be a bit abrasive," Stafford said, seated comfortably in his ready room, "But he's just trying to be part of the gang. You can't blame him for his approach; God knows he sees us insulting each other enough,"  
"I meant Jeffery!" Sylvia said.  
"Jeffery?" Stafford blinked, "What about Jeffery?"  
"What, your Chief Engineer comes back on board and you didn't know about it?"  
"Noooo…"  
Sylvia's face appeared on his display, looking more than a little cross.  
"Tunney decided to cancel the repair tour after I came back," Sylvia explained.  
"That doesn't explain why he'd be so angry at you," Stafford squinted, "Sylvia, do you look different?"  
"Do I?"  
"Your wrinkles are gone," Stafford said, "And your hair…wasn't it a little gray before?"  
"Well," Sylvia looked a little embarrassed, "Somebody suggested to me that maybe I should try acting my age and not my nacelle size,"  
"Uh-huh," Stafford sat back, looking thoughtful, "And this wouldn't have anything to do with that young man you were talking about before? What was his name…Miracle Grow?"  
"Shurgroe," Sylvia said, "And moving back to Jeffery. See, there was a little clause in the mission brief about his role that I didn't really think he needed to know about…"  
As she explained, Stafford found there was really little for him to do aside from resting his head on one hand and wondering just what he'd done to deserve the current situation.

"Frat, what do ye think yer doing?" Jeffery demanded.  
"Just aligning the torque sensors," Frat said, hands running over the main console. He was standing on one of the many step-stools kept in engineering to allow the short Nicondii engineers to reach the control panels.  
"Well fine then. Keep it up,"  
"It's nice to have you-"  
"Yeah, thanks," Jeffery waved him away, "Ah'll be in me office,"  
He noticed, with some amount of annoyance, that Sage had taken down his pictures. He'd had several images of his grandparent's resort on Alpha Centauri. Looking around he found an open box in one corner. His pictures obviously weren't there, but the smaller holo-images from his desk were there along with several padds detailing his repair efforts on the ship, the master glitch listing he'd been keeping for Tunney and the Bible Dr. Wowryk had talked him into buying.  
He stood there, looking around the small room, the book in one hand.  
"Computer, release audio lockout in Main Engineering," a voice said from behind him, "Authorization Stafford Alpha three one seven,"  
"SIMON JEFFERY YOU LITTLE TROLL!"  
"Sylvia!" Stafford said tiredly, "You promised!"  
"I'll be polite in a minute," Sylvia said, "Simon, that was completely rude and uncalled for and I demand an apology right this instant!"  
"Oh yeah!" Jeffery shot back, "And what about never botherin' to tell me Ah was just yer helper? Ye should have told me, Sylvia! Ah want an apology for that!"  
"Maybe so," Sylvia admitted, "But I had been hoping to prevent just this kind of scene,"  
"Plus that was kinda Tunney's idea," Stafford added helpfully.  
"He put me as her assistant!" Jeffery seethed, "That's like, like, sayin' yer First Officer under the auto-pilot!"  
"Now that was just rude!" Sylvia snapped.  
"Sylvia, Simon," Stafford help up his hands, trying to calm them down.  
"It may be rude, but it's the truth!"  
"Jeffery, I demand an apology!"  
"Ah'm not givin' it!"  
"Well," Sylvia 's voice took on the tone of finality, "When you change your mind, you know where to find me,"  
The channel closed.  
Stafford was quiet for a moment.  
"It's good to have you back," he said finally, trying to smile.  
Jeffery just glared.

Lieutenant Fifebee finished securing her holo-relay in its storage locker in Impulse Engineering. Located close to the center of the ship, it had been the logical place to keep her relay. Even after Jeffery got around to installing holo-relays in key areas like the bridge and science labs she'd still kept the relay there, powered on and ready to go if needed.  
Well, now that that task was complete, what was she going to do with her evening? She'd finished studying the data transmitted by the probe, learning absolutely nothing in the end. Her relay had been secured and the science facilities prepared for the analysis they would have to do in another two weeks when they arrived at DeLorea 2.  
This would be an ideal time for her to practice her socialization, she decided. She initiated a personality database purge, a step she'd begun doing on a regular basis to ensure that the hundreds of personalities making up her scientific knowledge database weren't influencing her own personality. It was almost impossible to do while she was on-duty, as she was always using somebody's past experiences to aid her, which inexorably led to that personality influencing her behavior.  
But being social shouldn't require any scientific effort.  
She debated speaking to Sylvia in a human fashion, to ask her where the crew was, but chose instead to simply communicate directly. Her own program sent a query to Sylvia over the ODN network, requesting the location of the crew. Sylvia's reply was complete within 9 nano-seconds and included the location of every remaining crewmember, a brief, privacy-respective summary of their current activities and several suggestions as to how Fifebee could spend her evening.  
Choosing to start with the obvious, Fifebee transferred herself to Unbalanced Equations.

"Wow, it's been a while since we've done this," Yanick said, letting herself settle into the comfortable armchair she was seated in, "I was getting a little worried the science team was going to start taking our usual spot here, but no sign of them,"  
"That is because we left them at the starbase, gorgeous being," T'Parief reminded her.  
"Gorgeous being?" Jall asked, using his toothpick-impaled olive to stir his martini.  
"He's still getting the hang of Terran romance," Yanick explained.  
"Have you ever considered," Dr. Wowryk said, returning from the bar with a big fruity drink in hand, "That perhaps you should be getting the hang of Gorn romance?"  
"Or Klingon!" Jall added, "I hear Klingon women can be very romantic if you approach them the right way,"  
"Like you care," Yanick giggled. Wowryk swallowed uncomfortably as she took a seat far from Jall.  
"Why are you being so multi-cultural all of a sudden?" Yanick asked, "Shouldn't you be telling T'Parief to court me in proper Catholic fashion?"  
"Maybe," Wowyrk shrugged, "But would it do any good?"  
"No," T'Parief admitted.  
"There you go," Wowryk sighed, "I tried. God knows I tried. But a dozen missionaries couldn't influence this crew,"  
"Y'know," Jall said, sipping his drink, "I think you and I have something in common, Doc,"  
"And what," Wowryk looked down her nose, "would that be?"  
"Well, we each have our own beliefs and," he blushed a bit, "preferences. They work for us, we enjoy them, and nobody's gonna change us. But I think if I tried convincing people to convert to my way of thinking I'd get about the same reaction you do,"  
"He's got a point there," T'Parief said, "As much as I hate to admit it,"  
"You dare to compare the worship of the Divine Lord to your filthy fleshy unions?" Wowryk said. Her tone was hard, but Yanick could tell her heart just wasn't in it.  
"Well, no," Jall said, "But you have to admit our situations are a little similar,"  
"Maybe so," Wowryk rolled her eyes, "But if I can work to 'Love the sinner and hate the sin,' then maybe you can try this old saying: 'What happens in the bedroom is your own damn business and the rest of us don't want to hear about it'!"  
"I think you're paraphrasing that a little," Fifebee said as she materialized, causing Wowryk to jump, sloshing some of her drink on the simulated hardwood floor.  
"She's got a good point though," Yanick said, "Y'know, Noel, I think that run-in with the other universe did you a lot of good. I've never seen you so open minded!"  
"That," Jall said, "Or she just doesn't care what the rest of us do anymore,"  
"Why is this place so quiet?" Fifebee asked. As she looked around she only saw two other people in the room; a pair of ensigns from Operations who were making out in one dark corner. The lights were dim, nobody was behind the bar and no music was playing. The evening crew was up on the bridge, keeping an eye on the ship as it flew in a straight line (a surprisingly difficult task for some people).  
"Kinda quiet with only 100 or so people on board, huh?" Yanick sighed, "Too quiet!"  
"Indeed," Fifebee said. She vanished in a shower of holographic sparks.  
"I hate it when she does that!" Wowryk said, crossing her arms.  
"Love the sinner, dear," Yanick said, patter her knee.

"So you used to run this program with Mr. Jeffery?" Noonan asked.  
"Yeah," Stafford said, "Up until he left for a while,"  
"He's back now. Why did you not invite him?"  
"Well, he's sort of in a bad mood right now," Stafford shrugged, "Besides, you need to get out more,"  
"I see,"  
"By the way, did that security check on Deck 26 turn up anything?"  
Noonan shook his head.  
"Nothing," he replied.  
"Excellent," Stafford finished adjusting the strap on his helmet, "Enough shop talk. Ready?"  
"I suppose."  
"Good!" Stafford slammed his visor down, jumped onto his snowmobile and hit the throttle. The machine roared, throwing back a stream of snow as the track under it spun. Finally it gripped and the machine shot forward, the twin skis at the front bobbing madly as they ran over the uneven, snow-covered terrain.  
Not to be outdone, Noonan pulled the throttle on his snow-machine with one hand, his other pushing the machine forward. As it shot forward he swung himself onto the seat, gripping it between his knees, keeping his head low as his snowmobile raced ahead of Stafford's.  
The two of them shot across an empty field, leaving twin trails behind them. Stafford broke to one side, spotting a series of snow banks that had build up against a line of trees along one edge of the wide, empty plain. Noonan followed.  
Now, Noonan could admit to having done a hell of a lot in his 200+ years of life, but he had to admit that snowmobiling just wasn't one of them. As such, he was so busy trying to figure out why exactly Stafford was slowing down when he hit the first snow bank head on, moving at close to 80 kilometers an hour.  
He plowed straight through it, snow blowing over the top of his windshield to hit him square in the face. He went through the second one as well, sending another cloud of snow into the air. By the time he hit the third, he'd slowed down enough that the machine attempted to go over rather than through, the result being that the snowmobile shot up in the air, jumping the next two banks before slamming into the last one, burying itself halfway in. Noonan, so surprised by the whole thing, was sent spinning through the air and into yet another snowbank where he landed in a most undignified manner, legs sticking out in the air while his upper body sank nearly to the ground.  
Stafford slammed on the brakes, however the snowmobile has to be the single most useless vehicle in the known galaxy when it came to breaking. He couldn't throw the engine in reverse, as one might attempt with a water or hover craft. Even if he could, the traction just wasn't there when it came to snow. All the brakes did was stop the track from spinning, like wheel brakes. But the machine just skidded across the snow, barely losing speed.  
Stafford's machine slammed into the read of Noonan's, sending the captain pin wheeling through the air to land hard on his first officer.  
The two of them lay in the snow, Stafford gasping in pain for several seconds.  
"Ow," he finally said, flinching as a clump of cold snow slid down the back of his neck.  
"You and Mr. Jeffery did this all the time, hmm?" Noonan's voice was muffled by the snow.  
"Not quite like this," Stafford admitted, trying to get off of Noonan without doing further damage.  
"Would you two like to be alone?"  
Staggering to his feet, Stafford saw Fifebee standing near the wreckage of their snowmobiles, looking very strange standing in the middle of a snow bank in only her Starfleet uniform. Noonan extracted himself from the bank, clumps of snow falling off him as he pulled off his helmet.  
"I'm really," Stafford gasped, "in far too much pain to be annoyed right now,"  
"Then I suggest you come to the lounge, where we have a variety of liquid painkillers," Fifebee smiled, then vanished.  
Gasping for breath, Stafford leaned on part of his Ski-Doo.  
"Did she just invite us to hang out?" he asked Noonan.  
"I believe so,"

"We need strippers," Yanick said finally, "that's what we need,"  
"I beg to differ," Wowryk said, sipping her drink.  
"C'mon Noel," Yanick giggled, "Strippers are perfect for you! You get to watch them get naked and act all manly, but you don't have to touch them or have anything to do with them!"  
Wowryk blinked.  
"Interesting thought," she said.  
"You mean men," Fifebee asked, having reappeared after a short time, "Dancing? Naked?"  
"I wouldn't mind," Jall said brightly.  
"Then get dancing," Yanick giggled.  
Jall gave her an annoyed look.  
"I meant I wouldn't mind strippers," he said, "not stripping!"  
"Do I get any say in this?" T'Parief asked, annoyed.  
"Later, big guy," Yanick winked suggestively.  
"Barkeep!" Stafford shouted, trailing melting snow behind him as he came through the doors to the lounge, "Something really, really hot and laden with booze!"  
"Our bartenders about a light-year thataway," Jall called, pointing out the windows looking out between the twin warp nacelles.  
"Oh yeah," Stafford grimaced, "Guess it's self-serve today," he started rummaging around beneath the bar, "Where the hell does Steven keep the eggnog?"  
He opened a small refrigerator, finding nothing but pickled targ's feet and something that he hoped was supposed to be cheese.  
"Sylvia," Noonan said, "One hot toddy please,"  
One of the replicators behind the bar hummed to life, producing the desired beverage.  
"I wanted to do it Steven's way," Stafford sighed, "Y'know, by hand?"  
"This way is safer," Noonan advised him, "trust me,"  
Locating a stasis unit with his own 'vintage', specific to his needs, Noonan poured the thick, red liquid into one of his special wine glasses. The decorative gold filigree on the rim was actually the emitter array for a tiny psionic energy generator, infusing the liquid with the 'life-force' energy Noonan required.  
He followed Stafford to the cluster of arm chairs at the aft of the lounge. The two of them settled in.  
"This is nice," Noonan said, "It's been a while since we did this,"  
"It has," Stafford winced, rubbing the leg he'd bruised in their little accident. He looked around at his senior staff and raised his glass, "To us," he said.  
"To the most eccentric crew in the galaxy!" Jall said, raising his in return.  
"Actually, Noonan said, "The crew of the USS Secondprize has that title,"  
"Second most eccentric, then," Stafford said.  
"USS Explorer," Fifebee advised him, "Judging from the ship logs I have stored in my database,"  
"Third?"  
"Perhaps. Though possibly the crew of Waystation has us beat,"  
"To ONE OF the most eccentric crews in the fleet," Wowyk said firmly.  
"To us!" they echoed, clinking their glasses.  
"Hey Sylvia," Yanick called, "How about some music, please. Something cheerful!"  
"Sure thing," Sylvia replied. A Bolian rock-opera started playing, a strong female voice belting out incomprehensible lyrics and reaching pitches no human voice was meant to hit,"  
"Good enough," Stafford shrugged, "Hell, Sylvia, why don't you join us?"  
There was a shimmer next to Fifebee as a hologram of Sylvia appeared.  
"Thought you'd never ask, dear,"  
"Wow," Jall twisted in his seat, appraising Sylvia from head to toe, "Sylvia! When'd you get…hot?"  
Sylvia crossed her arms in annoyance.  
"Hotter," Jall correctly sheepishly.  
"She's trying to impress a young man on the Stallion," Stafford teased.  
"I most certainly am not!" Sylvia crossed her arms, but a small grin teased one corner of her mouth.  
"Is he hot?" Yanick asked.  
"Well behaved?" inquired Wowryk.  
"Organic or artificial?" queried Fifebee.  
"Yes, yes and organic," Sylvia said, blushing.  
"Oooo!" Yanick giggled, "sounds dreamy!"  
Noonan and T'Parief exchange amused glances.  
"Hey honey, let's dance," Yanick said suddenly, pulling on T'Parief's arm.  
"I'm really not drunk enough yet," T'Parief said.  
Yanick grabbed his drink, pushed his head back and poured it down his throat.  
"Now?" she asked.  
"Uh…OK," he replied.  
"C'mon Sylvia," Yanick said, reaching out with her other arm.  
"Dance?" Sylvia looked vaguely alarmed, "I don't know how to dance!"  
"Time to learn!"  
Stafford took another pull on his drink, feeling more relaxed than he had in some time, despite the fact that his ship was possibly heading into imminent danger.  
"You're looking very please with yourself," Wowryk said, arching an eyebrow.  
"Not with myself," Stafford said, glancing over to where Fifebee and Noonan were getting into a discussion over the insect-eating habits of the Gorn, "It's been too long since everybody got along so well. It's like, for the last few months we've been wary of each other, unwilling to get close,"  
"Which was partly your fault, as I recall," Wowryk said.  
"No," Stafford shook his head, "It wasn't my fault we drifted apart. It's my fault nobody did anything to try to fix it. And y'know, I tried really hard after Yvonnokoff spoke to us about it. I tried to build bridges, I tried to get people to bond and it just wasn't working. And now, POOF!" he waved one hand back to where Yanick, T'Parief and Sylvia were dancing near the bar, "People are hanging out and goofing around like nothing happened,"  
"You can't make people bond," Wowryk said thoughtfully, "Despite what Yvonnokoff says. You just have to let it happen,"  
"I guess," Stafford shrugged, "Either way, I'm glad everybody's getting along again,"  
"Everybody?" Wowryk asked, "Aren't you forgetting somebody?"  
Stafford's eyes widened.  
"SHIT!" he swore.

Jeffery sat quietly in his quarters, brooding.  
Outside the narrow windows he could see the stars streaking by as Silverado flew through space at Warp 8. Part of him wanted to be worried about the engines; high warp cruising wasn't really something the cross-patch ship had been especially good at.  
But the rest of him didn't really care.  
His quarters were unbearably neat. The cleaning lady had clearly been doing her job; the rooms were so tidy it looked as though nobody had lived in them for months. The vid-screen was carefully cleaned; its black surface gleaming like obsidian. The rumbling of the engines was the only thing that he was really finding comforting; the Stallion's engines had had an unpleasant whine to them, even at fairly low speeds. Silverado's engine's were a rumble, sort of like a distant train. But there was a discord to their tone; the sound that something was straining itself.  
OK, so maybe he was able to worry about the engines a bit.  
He blew out a breath and stood in front of his replicator. He needed something calming. Something that would soothe him a bit. But something Sylvia couldn't know about it.  
He started tapping at the replicator console, carefully trying to hide his actions from the omni-present computer personality. It wasn't an easy task, but he was Chief Engineer after all. He started re-routing subroutines; feeding the monitoring systems for his replicator back into themselves so they'd continue to report an idle state. After that, he just had to put the engineering diagnostic programs into a self-diagnostic so they wouldn't pick up the power usage.  
Jeffery frowned.  
It wasn't that anything was going wrong; his modifications had worked perfectly. Too perfectly, in fact. It was almost as though the computer was eager to help him do something without attracting Sylvia's attention.  
Maybe, he thought, Sylvia's sentience was rubbing off on the non-sentient portions of the computer in some way, causing it to take on its own personality?  
There was a shudder as the ship hit some minor subspace disturbance, shaking Jeffery out of his thoughts.  
Right, sentience spreading like a virus. He shook his head. That was an insane idea. And why the hell should he care? He was trying to be depressed here, the last thing he needed was some silly engineering problem cheering him up.  
He ordered his illicit product, foot tapping nervously as the replicator worked. When it finished he quickly undid all his sabotage and went to his living room.

Deep in one of the Jefferies tubes, Lord Stalart sighed with relief. He'd been monitoring Jeffery's intrusion into the computer systems, certain the engineer had been hot on his trail. Fortunately, it had turned out that Jeffery, like Stalart, simply wanted to escape the attention of the vile mechanical bitch known as Sylvia. Very much like Stalart did.  
He felt a pang of sympathy for the human. True, Jeffery was a bloated, stinking giant of a life form, with a brain so primitive as to be incomprehensible. Still, he had tried to be a good father figure to Stalart when he had been dating Wowryk. He had taken Stalart to view equally incomprehensible athletic competitions, had brought him interesting things to eat and, most appreciated of all, afforded him breaks from the quashing attentions of the doctor.  
Yes, Stalart decided, he might let Jeffery live.  
It had taken him months to do his work. Slipping away from Wowryk for minutes at a time into the Jefferies tubes, making tiny, unnoticeable changes in the computer code, trying to break out of the prison these bipeds had inadvertently created for him. He would have succeeded much sooner, if it weren't for the attentions of the vile mechanical bitch, Sylvia.  
She caught him at every turn. She didn't catch the small changes he had been making, but nowhere had been safe; she could pick him up by his very life readings, beaming him immediately back to the slender, attractive yet restraining arms of his adopted 'mother'. His one victory had been to send out a distress call, right before Silverado had crossed into a parallel universe. Even that had been a long shot; the last time he had been with his people they were busy exiling him while they formed their new 'democracy'. Rubbish. He had hoped that enough of his loyal followers might remain that he may be rescued, but none had come.  
Instead he'd had a bigger break. Sylvia had left! No longer was he caught every time he ventured forth! Indeed, he'd been able to slip away from Wowryk, work his sabotage, then return unnoticed. It had taken him much work, but he'd been able to program the internal sensors to ignore his life-readings completely. He's also programmed in a sequence that would lock on to him from anywhere in Silverado's transporter range and beam him to a random, empty location on the ship, undetected by sensors. This was how he'd come on board after being left on Starbase 45. Disabling the comm system had been easy enough, preventing anybody on board from learning of his disappearance. He'd made enough preparations during her absence that there was nothing now that Sylvia could do to detect him, or even that he'd been making alterations. And the news of the attacks on Sylvia gave him hope that his message had, in fact, reached friendly ears. Though he wasn't willing to risk further transmissions to confirm it.  
He didn't know all the details of this mission but from what did know, he had a very good feeling that his time had come.

Wowryk walked purposefully through the corridor on Deck 2, the senior-senior officer's quarters. Noonan, Stafford, T'Parief and Jeffery, being at or above the rank of Lieutenant Commander, had quarters on this deck. Fifebee, Jall, Yanick and Wowryk were a deck down with the remainder of officers being housed deeper in the saucer, regardless of rank. Decks 2 and 3 were part of the superstructure that sat atop the saucer, along with the main shuttlebay, and as such had the best views. As usual, Starfleet was far too concerned with petty matters like the view to consider that it would only take one minute of bad piloting to shave the entire senior staff off the top of the ship faster than clipping the side-view mirror off an automobile.  
But we digress.  
Wowryk had lost the toss to Stafford, the two of them resorting to flipping a drink coaster to determine who had to go talk to Jeffery. Given that she was his ex-girlfriend and he was his best friend, Wowryk had felt that Stafford was a better choice. Stafford felt that Jeffery would be more likely to listen to her. Hence the toss.  
As she approached Jeffery's door, her nose detected a slight odor. It was very faint, the ship's air circulation system whisking it away before she got a good whiff. As she stood at Jeffery's door though, she could smell it again.  
Smoke! There was a fire!  
"Sylvia!" Wowryk cried, "Override door lock, Chief Medical Officer's override, Matthew two-thirteen!"  
"Yes, Doctor," Sylvia replied immediately. She probably would have had more to say if the bulk of her attention wasn't focused on the dance lessons currently taking place in the lounge.  
Wowryk skidded into the room, sliding between the door panels before they even fully opened.  
"Aw shoit," Jeffery exclaimed, jumping to his feet and holding something behind his back.  
"There's no fire!" Wowryk exclaimed.  
"Uh, Noel," Jeffery moved carefully towards the disposal, "Nice to see ye, but I really just-"  
Wowryk sniffed the air. The scent was heavy in the room.  
"Simon Jeffery!" she exclaimed loudly, "What do you think you're doing? Are you INSANE?"  
"It was just-"  
"A cigarette?" Wowryk stalked across the room and seized Jeffery's wrist, pulling the offending cylinder forwards, "Do you know how quickly this would kill you?"  
"Ah didn't think ye'd know the scent," Jeffery said dully.  
"We studied it in Medical History," Wowryk said, "It was listed under 'Human Stupidity'!"  
"Ah just-"  
"Simon," Wowryk put her hands on her hips, "One thing you and this crew need to learn is that you can't solve all of your problems with chemicals!"  
"Crewman Gibson does," Jeffery sulked, "And ye don't give him shit for it,"  
"Crewman Gibson," Wowryk bit her lip, realizing saying more was boarding on a violation of Doctor-Patient Confidentiality, "Well, let's just say even he's not dumb enough to use cigarettes,"  
"Funny," Jeffery said, "He always smells like smoke-"  
"Toss that out this instant!" Wowryk said, going to the closet a pulling out a casual-duty uniform, "Now get dressed!"  
"Ye can't give me orders!" Jeffery snapped, dropping the cigarette, "In case ye didn't know, ye broke up with me!"  
"You broke up with ME!" Wowryk snapped back, "And I'm not here to give you orders! I'm here because all your friends are down in the lounge having a great time enjoying each other's company while you're up here poisoning yourself!"  
"Ah didn't think ye cared," Jeffery said.  
"I lost the toss to Stafford," Wowryk snapped.  
"Oh, so now he's meddlin' in me life too?"  
"Don't be such a baby!" Wowryk crossed her arms, "Didn't it occur to you that when people meddle, it's usually because they want to make you happy?"  
"Could have fooled me," Jeffery fumed.  
Wowryk threw the uniform at him.  
"Fine!" she snapped, "I don't care. Come have fun with us, or stay here and be miserable. Make up your own mind!"  
She stalked to the door, then whirled to face him.  
"And by the way," she said, "Your couch is on fire! Have a nice night!"  
And she left.  
Jeffery stared at the door for a good 10 seconds while her words sunk in. Then, somewhat panicked, he hit the manual activation panel for the fire-suppression system.  
The systems in the crew quarters had, fortunately, been upgraded from the old foam dispensers to the newer force-field units. A force field immediately sparked to life, smothering the flames and reducing his couch to a pile of rubble. Hmm. At least those systems were working properly. Still, the remnants of his couch were really not conducive to his previous plans of spending the evening at home.  
Sighing, he pulled on the uniform Wowryk had thrown at him, tapped in a maintenance request to replace his couch and headed for the lounge.

In Unbalanced Equations things were continuing on in pleasant fashion. Yanick and Jall had finished teaching Sylvia the basics of dancing to rock, house and Klingon Stomp music and had moved on to the Andorian tango. Unfortunately, since they didn't have steel blades, body armor or the willingness to have their limbs amputated, the dance style really lost a lot of its authenticity. Still, they were having fun. Stafford had joined Fifebee and Noonan as the discussion drifted over to blood-sucking insects, something that Fifebee found very distasteful but for whom Noonan seemed to have sympathy. Stafford's contribution to the conversation was somewhat limited to 'I don't like being bitten," after which Noonan had, for some reason, been overcome by a fit of giggles.  
Wowryk had already returned and taken a seat at the bar, watching the dancers. A few of the other off-duty crewmen who had remained aboard had joined them as well; Stern and a couple members of the Hazardous Team sat in one of the big booths in the corner by the windows and Nurse Kerry was having a drink with two Ensign Nakeths.  
Jeffery walked in the wood-paneled doors and took a look around. Nobody was behind the bar. He debated paying attention to Wowryk's 'chemical dependency' rant, then decided to ignore her and poured himself a pint.  
Carefully keeping his distance from Wowryk, he found an empty table near one wall and settled himself in. He realized that nearly half of the people in the room were pissed with him. He'd offended Sylvia, abandoned Wowryk and was pretty sure Stafford was on their side. Well fine. He'd sit here for a while, show them that he wasn't scared of them and then run back to his smoldering quarters with his tail between his legs.  
He was surprised then, when T'Parief abandoned the dancers to take a seat at Jeffery's table. An uncomfortable seat, as his tail was a tight fit, but a seat nonetheless.  
"I hear the women on the Stallion are…impressive," he said by way of greeting.  
"Hmmph," Jeffery said, "Aye, they are. And thanks,"  
"For what?"  
"For not saying 'it's good to have ye back',"  
T'Parief shrugged.  
"You are welcome,"  
They sat in silence for a moment, Jeffery sipping his beer and watching Sylvia dance around with Jall and Yanick, T'Parief sipping a smoking Gorn concoction, staring at the wall and wondering just why Steven had put a picture of a cat on the wall if he didn't intend on serving them with rice and szinzar sauce. It was unfair to tease customers like that.  
"What do you plan to do now?" he asked Jeffery.  
"Do now?" Jeffery asked, "What do ye mean?"  
"Do you plan to continue your role here, seek reassignment or resign from Starfleet," T'Parief said, counting the choices on one had, "Or, you could take leave to sort things out,"  
"A-Ah hadn't really thought about it," Jeffery admitted. He'd just assumed he'd be staying on board.  
"That is what Yanick said," T'Parief said, "She surprised me sometimes, for a blond,"  
"Uh-huh," Jeffery frowned, "So she sent you here to talk to me?"  
"No," T'Parief said, "She gossiped about you at great length, but did not suggest I speak to you,"  
"Soo, ye just came out of the goodness of yer heart?" now Jeffery was confused.  
"No," T'Parief said, the tips of his fangs showing, "I came because if you resolve your issues I will not have to listen to gossip about you while I try to eat!"  
"Oh," Jeffery slumped, "Well, if it makes ye feel better, without me she'd just find something else to gossip about,"  
T'Parief slumped ever deeper than Jeffery.  
"You are right," he said.  
They both drank deeply.

Captain's Log, Stardate 78255.4:  
"We've arrived at Delorea 2 to begin our investigation into just why the images of this planet make it look like it's covered by water covered by oil. Or something like that. Temporal anomalies, disturbances, blah, blah, blah. Honestly, with ships encountering anomalies every second day, you'd really think that they wouldn't be anomalies anymore.  
"I'm pleased to report that the last two weeks have been fairly painless, other than Jeffery moping around like a beaten puppy and complaining about the strain two weeks of Warp 8 is putting on the ship. And Sylvia telling me that Jeffery's being overprotective and that the ship's holding up fine. And Jeffery telling me that Sylvia's being a 'git', which I always thought was a British insult, not a Scottish one. And Jeffery telling me there's nothing wrong with diversifying his profanity."  
"Anyway, you get the point. At least the rest of the crew is getting along better. Now we just have to finish this very simple task and go on about our business.

"All right," Stafford said, lounging back in his chair, "Let's do this by the book. Fifebee, start your sensor sweeps. Yanick, standard orbit. Jall, how's the automation holding up?"  
"I'm holding up just fine," Sylvia interrupted.  
Jall turned in his seat to look back.  
"She IS the automation, sir," Jall pointed out.  
"Good enough," Stafford sighed.  
"I'm doing OK too!" Yanick said, "Even with all these weird energy eddies, I'm still holding standard orbit A-OK!"  
"Good show, Trish," Noonan smiled, "Fifebee?"  
Fifebee tapped at her panel at the rear of the bridge for several seconds.  
"I have no record of any readings like this," she said, "They're really not making any sense. There are clearly temporal anomalies on the planet, but they do not appear to conform to…anything, really. Certainly not any known time-travel anomalies or technology."  
"Uh, OK," Stafford said, getting up out of his seat and moving to look over her shoulder. On the curved display panel of the science station he could see an image of the planet, over which was superimposed what could be conflicting energy fields or disturbing raunchy amoeba pornography. The planet itself was fairly Earth-like, close to two-thirds of the surface covered by oceans and an M-Class environment.  
"I'm reading seven distinct temporal fields," Fifebee said, "One for each major continent, in fact. They appear to be longitudinal, with convergences here, and here." She gestured at two points at opposite ends of the planet. Stafford could see pretty crossing lines, but aside from that really had no idea what he was looking at.  
"Are they man-made?" Noonan asked.  
Fifebee raised an eyebrow, Vulcan-style.  
"Unlikely, as 'man', generally meaning humans, have never set foot on this planet,"  
Stafford rolled his eyes and raised a hand.  
"They do not appear to be natural," Fifebee went on, having seen Stafford's expression reflected on her display.  
Stafford looked closer at the display.  
"What are those little lights?" he asked, pointing.  
"Lights," Fifebee shrugged, "The temporal interference is preventing me from scanning for EM or subspace emissions that would indicate a civilization, therefore I am compiling a map of artificial illumination,"  
"Uh, right," Stafford squinted, "So the planet's inhabited?"  
"Yes,"  
"What about this dark patch?"  
"There are no lights there,"  
Stafford crossed his arms.  
"Well DUH!" he said.  
"Which indicates there is no sign of civilization on that continent," Fifebee continued.  
"THANK you!"  
"Captain," T'Parief rumbled, "I have a vessel approaching fast at 323 mark 1!"  
"Identity?" Noonan asked.  
T'Parief tapped his panel.  
"It matches the vessel that the Stallion encountered at Scarborus 8," he reported, "and the ship from the report on this planet,"  
"Sylvia's would-be kidnappers," Stafford said, "Shields up! Arm weapons! Battlestations!"

Deep in the core of the ship Lord Stalart was startled as the red alert klaxon started to sound, red lights blinking on his panel. Honestly, he mused, even humans weren't stupid enough to need the constant reminder that they were at alert status. What was the point?  
Tapping into the sensor feed he pulled up a scan of the surrounding space and nearly fell off his chair.  
Help had arrived.

The bridge doors hissed open as Wowryk arrived on the bridge.  
"Shouldn't you be in Sickbay?" Stafford asked.  
"Maybe," Wowryk shrugged, "But since we hardly have any crew to get sick and you don't have much in the way of backup up her, I figured I'd be better off close by," she patted the med-kit hanging at her side.  
"Good point," Stafford admitted.  
"We're being hailed," Jall reported.  
"On screen," Noonan ordered.  
The image of a baby appeared. He looked to be around 3 years old, with the cutest dusting of red hair. He was dressed in a silvery pair of overalls, with strange symbols on the shoulders. He'd be adorable, if not for the cold look on his face.  
"I'm, er," Stafford fought back a smile, "Captain Chris Stafford of the United Federation of Planets," he lost his battle to stay professional, "Uh, do you need help finding your mommy?"  
"Oh, nice first impression," Jall groaned quietly.  
The child stared at them for several moments.  
"Uh, sorry about the bad joke," Stafford offered weakly.  
Finally the alien turned to one side. Another 'child' approached him and attached an odd electronic device to the side of his head.  
"I am Master Klendar, commander of the Arcanian Warship Overseer," the voice came through clearly, but the alien's mouth never moved, "Surrender the bitch Sylvia to us and return Lord Stalart at once!"  
"Fascinating," Fifebee said, "Clearly they're unable to vocalize. I wonder if they communicate with telepathy?"  
"I'm sure we can come to a reasonable compromise," Noonan said smoothly. The alien made a nodding gesture and Noonan fell back, wincing in pain.  
Immediately all preconceptions of cute alien babies was tossed out Stafford's window. If they could hurt Noonan with a gesture…  
"Look," Stafford said, "I don't know what you want with Sylvia, but believe me, her nagging isn't something you need in your life,"  
"Thanks, Chris!" Sylvia cut in.  
"I'm trying to protect you!" Stafford hissed.  
"As for this Stalart person," Stafford shrugged, "I'm afraid I've never heard of him,"  
"Uh, Captain," Wowryk was looking very worried.  
"Our ruler and all-knowing leader, Lord Stalart of the territory of Arcania," Klendar went on, "Was wrongly exiled by the cowards of Misticus. He was sent towards your territory. We demand his safe return immediately!"  
"Chris!" Wowryk hissed.  
"Not now," Stafford said to Wowryk. He turned to the screen, "We don't know who you're talking about. Now kindly stand down, or we'll just have to defend ourselves!"  
"You were warned," Klendar said darkly. The screen flickered off.  
"They're firing!" T'Parief called out. The ship shook hard as an iridescent purple beam lanced out of the smaller vessel's bulbous forward section, striking the upper surface of the saucer.  
"Return fire," Stafford said, "All conventional weapons!"  
"It has been too long," T'Parief sighed, lovingly stroking the weapons panel.

Phasers and torpedoes flew from Silverado's weapons, hitting the alien ship. The smaller vessel staggered then returned fire; a large, twinkling tri-cobalt device. The tri-cobalt hit Silverado's shields hard, the energy backlash penetrating the shields before they could compensate and leaving a darkened scar on the engineering section. T'Parief returned fire, heavily damaging the smaller vessel's shields.  
Deeper in Silverado, Lord Stalart was on the move. Klendar, his trusted second-in-command, had found his distress call. Clearly something had been garbled. Stalart had stated that he was being held captive on the Silverado, that Sylvia was his biggest impediment to escape and that he wanted rescue. Klendar had rightfully gone after Sylvia, but an earlier rescue attempt would have been more convenience for Stalart.  
No matter. He was here now. Silverado could match one of Arcania's vessels, but Stalart had a plan for that.

"Their shields are almost down," T'Parief reported.  
"Disable their weapons," Stafford ordered.  
"Locking phasers," T'Parief reported.

Stalart arrived at Computer Core Control, using a bamboo stick he'd swiped from the arboretum to tap at the door controls. It didn't take him long to get access to the core itself. Running quickly through the circular passageway running between the banks of gel-packs and isolinear chip racks, he found his query.  
Sylvia's self-contained module.  
"Luke!" Sylvia exclaimed, "What are you doing on board, you little tyke! You should be at Starbase 45!" her voice suddenly became worried, "Wait, why I can I see you on visuals, but not-"  
Now, Stalart though-spoke coldly, I am in control, bitch!  
He gripped Sylvia's module and yanked it out of the computer core.

"Their weapons are offline," T'Parief reported.  
"Chris," Sylvia said, "I think you-"  
Silence.  
"Sylvia?" Stafford asked.  
The ship shuddered, the stars starting to pinwheel across the screen. Panels flickered in and out, the main overhead lights dimmed and emergency lighting kicked in.  
"I'm getting serious systems failures across the board!" Jall cried, "Sensors, shields, weapons, everything is going haywire!"  
Stafford jumped to his feet, rushing to the ship schematic on the rear wall of the bridge, noticing Fifebee flickering out of existence as he passed her station.  
The schematic itself kept blinking in and out, but every time it came back on more red indicators were lit. Somewhere, a thruster fired randomly, sending the ship into an even wilder spin. Phaser beams lanced out in random directions, tractor beams flickered in and out and the replicator at the front of the bridge suddenly started spewing out cheese and crackers.  
"I have no control!" Jall said, "I can't get anything to respond!"  
"Helm control is all messed up!" Yanick said.  
"This is really not good," Noonan said, "Try to switch to computer backups,"  
The turbolift doors hissed open and Jeffery stepped out.  
"Jeffery!" Stafford spun to face the engineer, "What's happening?"  
"We're boned," he gasped, "I barely got the lift to bring me here in one piece!"  
"Why are you here?" Stafford said quickly, "Since we're kinda in a crisis!"  
"Ah thought ye'd want to know what's up," Jeffery snapped, "But with the comm lines down-"  
"Spit it out!"  
"Somebody snatched Sylvia!" Jeffery said, "Same thing happened to the Niagra when I unhooked her!"  
"Great!" Stafford growled, "How do we fix things?"  
"Reboot," Jeffery said.  
"Don't you think we've been trying?" Jall cut in, "The main computer's not responding, and the backup systems keep getting overridden by the main systems!"  
"Sir!" T'Parief called, dodging a fire suppression field as it was randomly activated, "A signal is coming through,"  
"To the wrong panel!" Jall added.  
"On screen,"  
T'Parief tapped his console.  
"Um," he frowned.  
"Oh, it's on my console now!" Yanick said, "Oh, it's gone,"  
"And I now have control of sewage and processing," Jall swore as his panel flickered again, "Make that, er, the library check-out listings,"  
"Whoever gets it next, put it on the screen!" Stafford ordered.  
"Are they getting this?" this time it wasn't Klendar as the screen flickered to life, "I know their systems are down, I sabotaged them!" Another pause. "No, I didn't think about how I was going to gloat with their comm down, I just wanted to escape! Oh, there you are!"  
"Luke!" Wowryk breathed.  
"I KNEW IT!" T'Parief roared.  
"Yes, hello, 'Mother'," Lord Stalart, now equipped with a vocalizer, said, his thoughts being translated into speech by the device, "While your breasts are most delightful, I despise the wretched captivity you have imposed on me for this pasts year! I have been waiting all that time to tell you just how much I hate you," his eyes flickered to the rest of the bridge crew, "All of you! Now, I'm quite sure that your vessel is doomed, now that I have what I want," he hauled up a computer module in both hands, wires and cables dangling from connection points.  
"Sylvia!" Jeffery snapped.  
"Simon!" Sylvia's voice came from the speaker on one side, "Chris! Don't worry about me, kick this little monster's ass!"  
"You give her back you bastard!" Stafford shouted, glaring at Stalart.  
"I am shaking in my booties," Stalart declared, "but now, brave crew, it is time to end your voyage to the stars. Thank you, by the way, for finding such a convenient planet to dump you on!"  
The screen flickered out.  
"Dump us on?" Yanick wondered.  
"They've locked a tractor beam on us!" Jall reported, "I think. Either that or the replicator in my quarters is offline again,"  
"Can we break free?" Stafford snapped.  
"Given a few hours to shut down and reboot?" Jall shrugged, "Maybe. As it is, I think Jeffery's right. We're boned,"  
The image of Delora 2 grew larger on the flickering main screen, the enemy vessel dead ahead and using their tractor beam to pull Silverado into the atmosphere.  
"Can we get a tractor beam on them?"  
T'Parief tapped at his console. A feeble beam speared out for a moment, then faded out.  
"Engines are still offline!" Yanick cried.  
"Captain," Noonan said softly.  
"Fire phasers! Disable their tractor beam generator!" Stafford ordered furiously, ignoring Noonan.  
"We're entering the outer atmosphere," Jall reported. Glancing at the clear dome over the command chairs, Noonan could see the faintest reddening as friction began to build with the planet's atmosphere.  
"Chris," he said, gripping Stafford by the arm and pulling him face to face, "It's time to abandon ship,"  
"NO!" Stafford snapped, "This is MY ship and we are NOT letting her go down!"  
"Weapons are offline," T'Parief reported.  
"Don't make me force you," Noonan said softly.  
"You wouldn't DARE!" Stafford seethed.  
Noonan looked around. Stafford followed his gaze to T'Parief, Yanick, Wowryk and Jall. His officers, the people who would go down with the ship if he didn't order them to safety. What mattered to him more now…saving his ship, or saving his crew?  
"All hands," he jammed a finger in the all-call button on his chair, opening the shipwide emergency broadcast channel, "Abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship."

TO BE CONTINUED

Next: Wow, things are looking pretty bad. What happens next to the ship? To the crew? To Stalart? Sorry, but this time I'm not giving anything away! You'll just have to tune in next time for Silverado 3.7 'Dyer Straights'…


	7. Dyer Straights

Star Traks: Silverado

3.7 "Dyer Straights"

Week One:

Somebody was playing the drums.  
It could have been timpani. Or a bass drum. Or maybe one of the kettle drums, which he'd always thought had been timpani anyway.  
But somebody was playing them, and playing them very loudly.  
"I think he's coming around," rumbled a deep voice, causing nearly as much pain as the drums did.  
"About time too. He should have recovered days ago." This voice wasn't as deep, nor as painful. But it still wasn't helping.  
"Uggghhhhh…"  
That voice was very familiar. Was it his voice? He thought so. It did seem to get louder when he the pain got worse.  
HSSSSSSS!  
The pain started to fade. Slowly, the world around him faded into focus.  
"Oh, my head," Jall groaned.  
"Good," Dr. Wowryk said primly, "You're awake. I was afraid we'd run out of these rather important life-saving drugs before you woke up,"  
Jall looked around. He was lying on a standard Starfleet bedroll, the kind they packed in survival kits. A small fire crackled away, a standard Starfleet survival cooking container hanging from a rigged branch, two shiny packets of standard Starfleet emergency rations being heated in the bubbling water.  
All of this was in a forest clearing. Perhaps if his head had been clearer, Jall might have enjoyed the beautiful, sunny blue sky. Or the towering trees, a bit bluer than normal in his opinion, but still forming an impressive canopy around their little clearing. Come to think of it, why should there be a clearing in the tree canopy here anyway?  
That question was quickly answered when he noticed the wrecked lifeboat sitting a few feet away. It was a boxy object with rounded corners. Thrusters and sensors were mounted on each corner with access hatches covering each side. Odd, one would think, to have so many doors on an escape pod. But one would have to understand that the pods were designed to link up with as many other pods as possible while in space, to increase odds of survival and decrease the odds of the passengers going mad with loneliness or resorting to cannibalism. Or to increase the available menu if cannibalism did become an option.  
This particular escape pod wasn't going to be doing any linking anytime soon. It had journeyed far from its longtime home on Silverado's upper superstructure to crash hard on Delorea 2. Jall could see that the pod had hit the ground far harder than it should have; the damned things were designed for planetary descent after all.  
A vague series of images were coming back to him. The pod tumbling through the atmosphere, something striking it on the way down and damaging the landing thrusters.  
Well, at least he was alive.  
"I suppose this means he will live," T'Parief said finally.  
"I'm so thrilled to see you too," Jall said, rubbing the back of his head. He could feel a smooth patch where somebody, probably Wowryk, had repaired the damage to his skull. Of course, if Wowryk and T'Parief were the only company he'd be having for the next little while his head was going to need a lot more repair work done.  
"You had a very nasty concussion," Wowryk told him. She looked haggard, her hair was pulled back but not in a tiny bun. Her normally flawless, pale skin was dirty and showing faint signs of a tan.  
T'Parief didn't look any different.  
"How long was I out?" Jall asked.  
"Three days," Wowryk replied.  
"And the ship?"  
Wowryk bit her lip. T'Parief refused to meet his eyes.  
"Oh," was all Jall could say.

Neither of them had explored far from the crash site. With Jall injured, Wowryk had convinced T'Parief that it was a better idea to lay low and avoid attracting attention. They'd tried locating other survivors with the equipment in the escape pod but had come up empty. Wowryk was of the opinion that the same temporal anomalies that had prevented a proper scan of the planet were also interfering with their communications.  
T'Parief, unsatisfied with the Starfleet emergency rations, had explored a limited area in order to hunt for fresh meat. He'd located what appeared to be a path, leading through the forest. Hopefully that meant there were inhabitants nearby and that they hadn't landed on the uninhabited continent.  
After much debate, they decided to explore the path half a day in each direction, keeping the crash site as a base camp. After all, why cart all that equipment around if it turns out there's a corner grocery store 10 minutes away?

Week Two:

"This stuff is heavy," Jall complained, lugging one of the heavy backpacks of supplies they'd salvaged from the lifeboat before leaving it behind for good. The hoped-for corner grocery store had failed to materialize, prompting them to strike out in hopes of finding some sign of civilization.  
"Have you figured out where we are yet?" Dr. Wowryk asked.  
"I said this stuff is heavy!" Jall said again.  
"We were ignoring you," T'Parief growled, "It was a subtle hint for you to shut up!"  
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were capable of subtlety!"  
"Perhaps he isn't," Wowryk stepped carefully over a tree root, "But I am,"  
T'Parief snagged a foot on the same root. Rather than tripping, he gave a mighty tug, yanking the root clear of the ground.  
"Case in point," Jall grumbled, "And no. I haven't. It's gonna take some time for the tricorder to work out our position, y'know, with the interference and all."  
They walked in silence for several more minutes. The trek hadn't been particularly difficult. T'Parief's hunting skills and the rations in the survival bags kept them reasonably well fed, their Starfleet survival training had taught them how to make shelters for the night, which was irrelevant anyway since the survival tents had survived the lifeboat crash. All in all, the experience was more like shore leave than a survival crisis.  
Oh, except there was no ship in orbit waiting to pick them up.  
Wowryk had been hopeful. After all, Starfleet knew where they were and would know something was wrong when they failed to check in. Of course, Jall had immediately pointed out that the same temporal fields that had prevented them from scanning the planet would have the same effect on any rescue vessels, if Starfleet had even noticed they'd gone missing. Not to mention that because of the temporal fields they had no idea if they were even in their own time anymore.  
"Of course," Jall had added, "If your 'son' hadn't turned out to be a murderous little bast-"  
That's as far as he got.  
Faster than anyone would have thought possible, Wowryk was on him, pinning him to a tree and jamming her knee into his crotch.  
"If you EVER mention him again," she'd snarled, "You'll be a NON-sexual, I swear by GOD!"  
At that moment, in excruciating pain, Jall very quickly agreed.  
T'Parief, enjoying the show, made note of how pleased he was that Jall had brought Lord Stalart up first.

They found the city two days later.  
"Look," Wowryk was saying, rather harshly, "I don't care if you don't like women, you are NOT bathing here!"  
"C'mon!" Jall protested, shirtless and standing by the edge of the small lake they had camped beside, "I won't look if you won't!"  
"Forget it!" Wowryk declared, "I've been torn from my home, crashed onto a bizarre planet and forced to spend the past week and a half listening to you and T'Parief bicker like a pair of children! I refuse to give up the last shred of my dignity by exposing myself to the likes of you!"  
"But the only other choice nearby is a swamp!" Jall cried, "And T'Parief won't let me use it! Says I'll muck up the water with my vile human oils!"  
"He got the vile part right," Wowryk snapped.  
"Do you REALLY want me to skip bathing today?" Jall asked, "You know how bad I'll smell!"  
Wowryk blew her breath out through her teeth.  
"Fine," she said, "But you use the pond after I'm done!"

Wowryk had just returned, the trip back to their current campsite getting her almost as dirty as she'd been prior to bathing. But at least she was BO free. Jall was just getting ready to go when T'Parief came charging through the trees.  
"I found a city," he said, stuffing their survival gear into the backpacks, stomping out the remains of the fire.  
"Well good for you, Muscles," Jall said, annoyed, "But we CAN go to the city later, you know,"  
"You don't understand," T'Parief said, still packing, "We must move, now!"  
"Uh-oh," Wowryk groaned.  
A crowd of humanoids burst out of the trees, carrying torches and the local equivalent of pitchforks.  
They ran.  
Dodging through the trees, ducking branches and cutting up their legs badly on some local thorns, Wowryk and Jall struggled to keep up to T'Parief as he ran, tail outstretched and head down.  
Jall could hear the crowd behind him, shouting oaths and obscenities. At least he assumed that's what they were shouting. The Universal Translator hadn't locked onto the language yet, but their tone of voice really told him a lot about what they were saying. Still, considering how most people responded to the sight of T'Parief, with his large build, scaly green skin, fangs and claws, it wasn't too hard to figure out just why they were chasing the three castaways with pitchforks and torches.  
"Split up," T'Parief said, breathing hard.  
"What?" Wowryk demanded.  
"They probably didn't notice you," he said, "Go investigate the city. I will find you later,"  
"Hey," Jall said, "I'm not your biggest fan, but-"  
"GO!" T'Parief snapped, his fangs flashing.  
Jall and Wowryk gave him one last look, then broke off, circling in a direction would take them around and behind the mob.. They ran, the woods thinning as they neared the city. Finally, the sounds of the mob had faded enough that they felt comfortable slowing down.  
"We didn't need that," Wowryk sighed.  
"No shit," Jall muttered, "Who does need a nice chase after breakfast?"  
"No," Wowryk said, "I mean, we're already cut off and alone from everybody else. We can't leave T'Parief alone!"  
"For all we know," Jall said darkly, "We're the only survivors on this whole planet,"  
SMACK!  
"Don't say that!" Wowryk snapped as Jall rubbed the now-sore spot on his face, "I saw all the other lifeboats leaving the ship!"  
"Really?" Jall asked, "Cuz all I saw was the planet getting bigger out the window!"  
"Minor memory loss isn't uncommon with concussions," Wowryk said, "I saw other lifeboats leave Silverado before-" he words caught in her throat.  
"Before?" Jall prompted.  
"Don't be dense!" Wowryk snapped. 'Before she broke apart' was what she was going to say…but the words didn't want to come out.  
"I hope you're right," Jall said, giving her a small smile.  
"I am right," Wowryk said, "We need to meet back up with T'Parief, try to find other survivors and wait for Starfleet to come rescue us,"  
"We're not gonna find him," Jall said, "If he's trying to hide from the locals, we'll never track him down," he frowned, "If I could get the comm-badeges working that would help us, but then we'd have to find him first to tell him how to get his working. Dammit!"  
They had reached the edge of the forest and were looking across a broad plain. Much of the plain was covered with farmland; crops growing or weird 6-legged animals grazing. In the center of this was the city. 'City' might have been a generous word, as it was more of a medieval town. The farmlands, with their scattering of small farmhouses, gave way to clusters of wooden shacks with thatch roofs. Surrounding the city was a 15-foot high stone wall, upon which Wowryk could see guards patrolling the ramparts. The wall hid much of what was in the city, but the towering spires of a castle could be seen within.  
"I guess T'Parief must have been spotted by one of the farmers," Jall said, noticing that there were abandoned farming implements in some of the fields near the path, which joined a larger road shortly after leaving the forest.  
"Let's hope they have a warmer welcome for us," Wowryk sighed.

They welcome wasn't warmer. In fact, it was nonexistent.  
They passed through the 'shantytown' surrounding the walls and reached the city gates. A bored-looking guard eyed them up, most likely checking for weapons. He said nothing as they walked past.  
The first thing to hit them was the stench.  
It was an unholy combination of sewage, sweat and body odour.  
"And I was worried about not bathing," Jall winced, holding his nose.  
"It's a primitive culture," Wowryk said, a look of distaste on her face, "Clearly they haven't discovered plumbing yet!"  
Aside from the foulness in the gutters lining the streets, the town/city was pleasant. That was the second thing to hit them. The homes and businesses inside the walls were impeccably neat, with shingled roofs, glass windows and carefully maintained signs. There was no writing, but Jall could see signs with graphic depictions of food, clothing, weapons and something that could have been anything from a dance studio to a porn shop. The street was made of cobblestone and he could see unlit candles mounted on poles that would no doubt serve as dim streetlights. They could see the castle more clearly now. It was a very solid affair. One good-sized tower served as the entrance and no doubt the main watch point. A circular wall enclosed the castle proper, with two smaller towers positioned so that the three towers together were evenly spaced. In the center of the ring-shaped wall was a blocky stone structure that appeared to serve as the main hall, living quarters and so forth.  
"You have to admit," Jall said quietly, hoping their universal translators would pick up the local language soon, "It's a great opportunity. When's the last time we got to check out a culture this primitive?"  
"We're marooned in the Dark Ages and all you can thing about is study?" Wowryk asked.  
"Just trying to look on the bright side,"  
"Who would have thought," Wowryk said, "I thought the dark side was where you lived?"  
Jall frowned.  
"Greetings, strangers,"  
They spun to see another guard behind them. This one wore different dress then the sleepy-looking fellow they had passed by the gate. This one wore boiled leather armor, (At least that's what it looked like) had a sword was sheathed on one hip and carried a shield on one arm. The shield had a symbol of a black spider crawling over a clustered green vine.  
"I guess the translator's working now," Jall said softly. Able to take a closer look at the alien, they were relieved to find that he was a very basic humanoid. No extra ridges, bumps, lumps or appendages. His skin did have a slightly grey tinge to it, but the difference wouldn't make too much of an impact on their ability to blend in as locals.  
"Hello, sir," Wowryk said, bowing her head, "We're just visiting-"  
"I'm sure you are," the guard cut her off, "And visitors are always welcome in the realm of the Evil Lord Dyer. But before you can partake in the pleasures of our city, you must meet and be judged by the Evil Lord Dyer,"  
"Uh, judged for what?" Jall asked nervously.  
"Why," the guard looked surprised, "To see if you are worthy to visit our city!"  
"But you just said visitors are always welcome!" Wowryk said.  
"They are," the guard agreed, "Visitors are always welcome to come and be judged by the Evil Lord Dyer,"  
"Uh, why is he evil?" Jall asked, "I mean, the way you say that, is it part of his title, or is he really evil?"  
"Lord Dyer," now the guard was looking annoyed, "is evil. And is therefore prefers to be known as the Evil Lord Dyer! Now come, before I have you arrested!"  
"Uh, OK," Wowryk gulped.

"Your evilness," the steward bowed low before his master, "how may I serve you?"  
The Evil Lord Dyer sat on his throne in the main castle hall. His face was grim, his eyes calculating.  
He was also bored out of his skull.  
Being evil had its advantages, and he worked hard to cultivate his evil reputation. Torture, unprovoked attacks on neighboring villages and the frequently hiring of musicians to play twangy country music were just some of the ways he tried to keep that reputation intact. That, and adding 'Evil' as a prefix.  
And he'd been successful. The peasants of his own city-state feared and respected him, the peasants and knights of the nearby city-states didn't come anywhere near his kingdom of Wendseria for fear of being put to work in the silver mines or worse, as a servant for Lord Dyer's harem. (Keepers of the harem had to have certain…modifications made, to be sure they weren't tempted to sport with their Lord's property)  
"Perhaps a visit from one of your concubines?" the steward suggested, hoping to get the Evil Lord Dyer in a somewhat less evil mood.  
"I am not in the mood," Dyer grunted.  
"We could have a prisoner brought in and tortured,"  
A sigh.  
"Husal, we just had the rugs cleaned from the last tortured prisoner," Dyer said, waving a hand, "Remember? The one that messed himself when we started with the burning,"  
"My Lord had him quite evilly punished for that," the steward shuddered, remembering the even larger mess the punishment had made.  
"Yes well," Dyer crosses his arms, "Punishment is what I do best,"  
"Perhaps then," the steward looked hopeful, "My Lord might care to review the proposed plans for the new torture chambers and decided upon which one he might prefer,"  
"ARRGGHHH!" Dyer screamed, slamming an arm against the small refreshment table by his throne, sending salted meats and goblets of fine wine splattering to the floor, "I DO NOT ENJOY INTERIOR DECORATING!" he screamed.  
If only Lord Dyer had had knowledge of a faraway planet called Earth, he might have learned that Interior Decorators can be among the most evil and feared beings of them all.

Jall and Wowryk were led calmly through the castle gates. Jall noted that this particular castle really didn't resemble Castle Wowryk, the virtual-reality palace that Queen Wowryk had fashioned for herself. This one was smaller and far more functional. Which made sense, since the inhabitants had built this one by hand rather than conjuring it into reality. Who wants to build a few kilometers of corridors and passageways, after all? It was dirtier as well, though considering medieval cleaning technology it was in pretty good shape.  
They passed though a small square, with a temple of some kind on one side and what appeared to be barracks on the other. Directly ahead of them lay the entrance to the main keep. Two guards stood on either side of the doors, jumping to pull them open as the small party approached. Finally, they entered the main hall. Wowryk's eyebrows rose in spite of herself as she took in the high glass windows, the thick animal fur rugs and the carefully maintained tapestries decorating the chamber. At the far end, seated in an elaborately carved throne, was the man they presumed to be Lord Dyer.  
"Presenting," a small, rat-faced man, possibly a steward, announce, "The Evil Lord Dyer! My Lord, I present-"  
"You can't be evil!" Jall cried out, a look of amazement on his face, "You're blond!"  
"Oh dear," the steward sighed softly.  
Lord Dyer rose to his feet, bringing himself to his full height of around 5 foot 9. His frame was slender, but wiry. Jall expected that the young man would be stronger than he looked. Aside from his crop of strawberry-blond hair, Lord Dyer had what could best be described as a baby-face. His skin was perfect, barely a mark visible, and his soft cheeks and gentle brow line gave him a look of open innocence.  
"I am EVIL!" he said, his expression darkening.  
"You certainly don't look evil," Wowryk said.  
"He's kinda cute, actually," Jall shrugged.  
Dyer descended the steps leading to his throne.  
"I could have you jailed and tortured for questioning my evilness!" he declared, coming face-to-chin with Jall, "I could have you drawn and quartered! And you!" he turned to Wowyk, paused, and gave a sly grin, "Well, perhaps you'd be interested in joining my harem? I do have a space open for a new concubine,"  
Wowryk's eyes bulged.  
"YOU EVIL, ATHIEST BASTARD!" she cried.  
Dyer looked genuinely flattered.  
"Thank you, my lady," he smiled, gently grasping her hand and pulling it to his lips.  
"That's never happened before," Jall confided to the steward.  
The doors burst open and an out-of-breath guard appeared. Jall noted that the Delori, the name he'd chosen for this race, turned an interesting shade of blue when they were out of breath.  
"M'Lord!" the guard gasped.  
"Evil Lord," Dyer corrected, his eyes focused on Wowryk as she glared coldly at him.  
"My Evil Lord," the guard said, "We've sent two platoons after the dragon, but he's escaped into the deep forest!"  
"You idiots," Dyer snapped, "Who are the platoon commanders? I want them punished! No!" he held up a hand when the guard tried to speak, "Forget it. I'll simply have both platoons fed to the dragon once he's caught!"  
"Dragon?" Jall gulped.  
"A dark beast, with scales as green as emeralds and eyes as red as fiery rubies!" the guard said, "Roaring with a voice that could bring terror to young and old, with claws to rend it's prey in twain!"  
Wowryk and Jall exchanged glances and sighed.  
"T'Parief," they said.  
"T-Perry-Who?" Dyer demanded.  
"Uh," Jall thought fast, "That's our name for, er dragons. Yeah. Sort of a nickname,"  
Wowryk frowned. Jall prayed she'd follow along.  
"Hmm, yes. Well," Dyer waved a hand at Jall, "This one no longer amuses me. Have him thrown in the dungeon. I'll torture him later,"  
Jall squeaked as two guards grabbed him by the arms and started hauling him unceremoniously towards the exit.  
"You, guard," Dyer nodded in the guard's direction, "I want that dragon slain and his heart on my plate for dinner!"  
"Er, wait, um, My Evil Lord," Wowryk broke in, "Do you really have to kill him?"  
"Of course I do," Dyer frowned, "I'm evil!"  
"Yes," Wowryk bit her lip. Then it came to her! "But wouldn't a dragon be the perfect pet for an evil master like yourself?"  
Dyer stared at her in unmasked adoration.  
"Clearly," he said, "You are far too superior a woman for the harem. Guard! I want that dragon brought in…alive! Also, go fetch a minister. I wish to be wed to this woman and to pass my seed to her as soon as possible,"  
"WHAT?" Wowryk shouted.  
"You're simply too perfect to pass up," Dyer said, "An evil mind and body to bring in evil thoughts?" he gave a demented grin, "We're going to make beautifully evil music together!"  
"You can't do that to me!" Wowryk cried, the ramifications of how badly her plan to protect T'Parief had backfired, "I'm Catholic!"  
"I'm sorry, you're what?"  
"I'm," Wowryk rolled her eyes. How would she explain Catholicism to an alien?  
"I'm a child of God," Wowryk finally said, nose uplifted, "the Creator of all things,"  
"All so much the better," Dyer shrugged, "I hear the Creators gets really angry when I violate one of their people,"  
"Ooooh!" Wowryk seethed.

"Have fun, knave!"  
Jall sprawled onto the filth-covered floor, aided by a hard shove from one of the burly guards.  
"Ouch," he said.  
He looked around.  
The room he was in was small and dirty. A tiny window, well out of reach, let in a few feeble rays of sunshine. The pile of dirt and hay in one corner was probably meant to be a bed, but Jall would rather sleep on the stone floor than that bug-infested mess. With the exception of the barred door, the room was made of stone.  
Jall spent close to an hour testing all the stones, trying to find one loose enough in its mortar for him to pry it loose. Failing that, he contemplated the utter disaster his nails had become since crash landing on this stupid planet.  
"What I wouldn't give for a working starship and a manicurist right now," he sighed.

"Come closer, my dear," Dyer said, an evil smile on his face, "I wish to…get to know you better,"  
"I don't think so," Wowryk said, seated in the chair furthest from Dyer's throne as was possible.  
Dyer signaled one of his guards. The man approached Wowryk, hands outstretched, presumable to force her closer to the vile midget-king.  
So she kicked him in the crotch.  
The guard's armor (greaves, for the lower body, by the way) afforded some protection. But whatever the Delori men had down there, it was just as fragile as the human equivalent. The guard dropped like a pile of stones.  
"Oh!" Lord Dyer clapped his hands in delight, "That was so deliciously evil!" He jumped from his throne and ran to Wowryk, careful to avoid her foot as it shot for his family jewels. He caught her in his grip and kissed her deeply.  
"Ewww!" Wowryk cried, forcing her mouth away from Dyer and his medieval breath, "Gross!" She swung out with one hand to deliver her famed 'ManKiller' slap, but another guard came from behind and held her back.  
Struggling to think of a way to distract the horny dictator, Wowryk's mind turned to Jall.  
"What are you doing to my, ugh, friend?" she asked.  
"Oh, him?" Dyer shrugged, returning to his throne and pulling Wowryk alongside ind him, "I tossed him the dungeons, of course. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to torture him, or just let the guards use him for their own amusement. Probably the latter; it's far more evil. And since I haven't had my torture chamber rebuilt after that young man exploded in it, I've had to do my tormenting in the main hall," he pointed to a spot on the thick rug in front of the throne, "I STILL CAN'T GET THESE STAINS OUT!"  
"Ex-exploded?" Wowryk asked, instantly wishing she hadn't.  
"Yes. One of my alchemists is experimenting with an interesting substance that ignites when it gets wet. I wanted to see what would happen if somebody ate it,"  
Wowryk turned green.  
"Look," she said, trying very hard to stay calm, "Please, just release us both. We'll be on our way and we won't bother you ever again!"  
"But I don't want you to leave," Dyer said, "The Evil Lord Dyer will have nothing of the sort,"  
"Excuse me?"  
"I don't know. It just sounded good," Dyer gave a small cough, "I want you to stay and become my bride. I want your friend's screams to serenade us as I have my way with you," he shrugged, "End of story,"  
"But my friend is, um," Wowryk wasn't even sure what an Operations Officer did on the ship, nevermind what he might be good for on a primitive planet, "He's very smart. Knows lots of interesting information,"  
"All of which will no doubt spill out during his torture," Dyer shrugged, "Along with his intestines,"  
"I thought you were going to give him to your guards?"  
"Well, I'll probably torture him myself eventually. I think I have an opening day after tomorrow,"  
"The stars!" Wowryk jumped up, remember Jall's work analyzing the night sky to determine where on the planet they had crashed, "He's an, er, astronomer,"  
"Really?" Dyer showed a small amount of interest, "Why would I need an astronomer? Most of them were wrong about the comets anyway,"  
"Comets?"  
"Surely you saw them," Dyer frowned, "10, perhaps 12 nights time ago?"  
Wowryk shook her head.  
Dyer sighed.  
"Behold and to the east, over the Great Sea," he recited, sounded bored, "A ball of flame appears. An omen of evil and of ill-tidings, those who look upon it, tremble in fear'," he sighed again, "Why these soothsayers need to turn everything into a fancy poem I do not know. But there was a great ball of fire that fell from the sky over the Great Sea. Some of my peasants informed me smaller pieces may have broken off, but I really didn't care. And see? The astronomers say this comet is a bad omen, yet after it falls I am presented with a beautiful woman to wed an a hapless prison to torture,"  
Wowryk stopped listening as her head spun. A fireball, crashing from the sky?  
Silverado!  
She gulped. Could the reports that smaller pieces appeared to have broken off mean that the ship had broken apart in the atmosphere, or could it refer to other lifeboats? Other survivors!  
"Lord Dyer," Wowryk began.  
"Evil Lord Dyer,"  
"Evil Lord," Wowryk swallowed again, "Could I speak to some of these peasants?"  
"No,"  
"Please?" Wowryk was feeling almost desperate, "For me?"  
"I would," Dyer shrugged, "But I had them killed. After all, any who looked upon the comet was to tremble in fear. I had to give them a good reason to tremble, as you understand, making a ready bad omen out of it,"  
Wowryk was crestfallen.  
Dyer noticed this.  
"But, my dear," he said, "I could let you talk to your astronomer friend before he is sent to the barracks. After all, I must attend to this matter of the dragon hunt, and I wish my woman to have some amount of happiness,"  
"What's the catch?"  
Dyer leered at her.

Jall sat on the floor with his back to the wall, watching a six-legged rat-like creature scamper past his cell.  
"Yup, you scurry along, little rat-thing," he sighed, "You're out there, free to walk and roam, while I'm locked up in here waiting to have my guts pulled up through my throat. Or whatever they did to torture people in this hellhole. He had noticed that most of the other cells were empty, which he did not take as a good sign. Clearly, prisoners of Lord Dyer didn't survive in the dungeons very long.  
The rat-thing went sailing across Jall's field of few, a sickening crunch filling the air as it hit the far wall. The heavy armored boot that had kicked it came into view shortly afterward, along with the guard it was attached to and the person he was escorting: Dr. Wowryk.  
"Hey Doc," Jall pulled himself to his feet and moved closer to the door, giving Wowryk a little wave, "here to break me out?"  
"No," Wowryk said, looking very unhappy.  
"Well I'd appreciate some work on that!" Jall said, "Who knows what's going to-URK!"  
Wowryk had reached through the bars, grabbed Jall by the front of his dirty field jacked and pulled him forward, slamming his head into the bars.  
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH TO SEE YOU?" she growled, "I HAVE BEEN GROPED!"  
"Bet kissing Jeffery doesn't seem so bad now," Jall squeaked. Wowryk slammed his head into the bars again.  
"OK! OK!" he cried, "Uncle!"  
She released him.  
"So what's so important that you had to get your chest kneaded to tell me about it?" he asked, staying out of reach of her arms as he rubbed his head.  
Wowryk told him about the 'comet'.  
"The ship really crashed?" he said, perking up.  
"Apparently," Wowryk said.  
"This is great!" Jall exclaimed.  
Wowryk nearly exploded again.  
"We are trapped on this world, our friends and colleagues may be dead, I may be forced to marry this horribly man who wants T'Parief as a pet, plans to give you to his guards for 'their use' and you think the fact that our only means of escape has been destroyed is GREAT?"  
"Well, no," Jall said, "but…wait. Give me to the guards?"  
"I don't know what that means," Wowyk said, waving a hand. Then she saw the odd, almost lustful look on Jall's face and it clicked.  
"EEEWWWWWWWW!" she screamed.  
Jall shrugged.  
"Better than having my limbs hacked off," he said, "But back to business. Look. Doc, if the ship crashed there might be something on it we can salvage! A shuttle, one of the runabouts. Maybe enough parts to built a subspace beacon so we can be rescued! We've got to get to the crash site!"  
"Eww, ewww, ewww!" Wowryk was still wringing her hands.  
"DOC!" Jall snapped, "You've gotta get me out of here! We've got to hook up with Lizard-Boy and get out of this hell-hole!"  
"Sickening, perverse-"  
"If anybody else survived," Jall said, "They'll be heading to the wreckage too!"  
This sunk in.  
"You're right," Wowryk said, a look of distaste still on her face, "Unless the Delori find it first…"  
"Ohhh," Jall rubbed his forehead, "Hello Prime Directive violations!"

T'Parief sat calmly in the cave.  
It was a pretty nice cave, as caves went. Once you got past the small entranceway, the ceiling was high enough for him to stand comfortably and there was a rock of the perfect size to act as a chair. There was even a cushioning layer of bio-luminescent moss to cushion his backside.  
Still carrying the survival packs, he'd pulled out a lamp and a small toolkit and was trying to adjust his communicator to cut through the subspace and temporal interference. Jall's tricorder was finished calculating their position, which showed them as being on a mid-sized continent just north of the equator, not far from the shallow central sea, on which most of the continents bordered. He was using another tricorder to track the life-signs of the guards, noticing that while they came very close to his cave, they never spotted the entrance, hidden as it was under a cascade of flowering vines.  
Yanick would have thought them beautiful.  
T'Parief clenched his hands as a wave of despair crashed over him. Where was Yanick? Had she survived the ship's destruction? He'd seen her getting into a life pod, but what if her pod had been damaged even worse than his? She could be scattered across some medieval field somewhere and-  
No. That was no way for a Klingon warrior to think. Or an Andorian. Or a Gorn. T'Parief wasn't sure what kind of culture his new people, the Parians, were adapting, but based on their roots he doubted it would look kindly on sitting in a cave weeping over splattered humanoid. Or smashed starship.  
Silverado had been his responsibility, as much as it had been Jeffery's or Stafford's. Stafford may have commanded the ship and been responsible for her crew and Jeffery may have been responsible for the ship's 'health', but it was he as Chief of Security that was responsible for protecting her from threats like Lord Stalart. A responsibility he'd failed at rather miserably. Sylvia kidnapped, the ship sabotaged and Lord Stalart off doing who-knows-what.  
He continued tweaking the communicator. There was nothing wrong with the device, it just seemed to be unable to penetrate the layer of temporal energy that wreathed the planet. If only Jeffery or Fifebee had been around.  
T'Parief swallowed hard at the thought of the holographic Science Officer, undoubtedly killed when the ship was destroyed. Another crewmember he'd failed to protect. He had dim memories of Jeffery trying to download her program out of the main computer before abandoning the ship, but the computer malfunctions caused by Sylvia's abrupt disconnection had prevented him from doing much of anything.  
Digging through the survival pack, he located a data chip labeled 'Emergency Procedures'. He quickly located an index of communicator modifications. Starting with the mod titled 'Compensating for Advanced Temporal Dilation' he began working.

Wowryk had been brought into the castle's dining area. A smaller chamber than the Great Hall, it was still impressively large. Lord Dyer sat at one end of a long table, looking over his goblet of wine at Wowryk as she squirmed in her seat at the other end of the table. Servants began bringing in the meal; platters of roasted meat, unidentifiable alien vegetables, flagons of blue wine, grey milk and something green that smelled vaguely like asparagus.  
"Eat, my beloved," Dyer said, helping himself to the leg of some slaughtered animal.  
"Er, I'm a vegetarian," Wowryk lied.  
"A what?"  
Wowryk rolled her eyes. Obviously there was no equivalent term in Dyer's native language. Logical, as most medieval cultures were too depending on animals as a source of food to even consider vegetarianism.  
She noticed that Dyer was eating fairly quickly, then it dawned on her. After dinner, he planned on 'conquering her city-state!' Clearly, she had to drag dinner on as long as possible!  
Smiling weakly, she served herself a generous pile of red 'lettuce', green 'carrots' and as much other food as she could, vowing to eat as slowly and daintily as possible.

Sighing, T'Parief moved on to the next modification in the list: 'Compensating for Mis-Matched Temporal Vectors'. He didn't have a clue what that meant, but since 'Mis-Matched Temporal Vectors' was listed between 'Melded Temporal Laminer Flow' and 'Mytropic Chonometric Particle Flux' on his list, two terms he understood even less, he figured he may as well do it anyway.  
Cursing at the stupid human who designed the tools in the toolkit for tiny human hands for the hundredth time, he tapped delicately at the inner workings of the communicator.  
There was a burst of static from the communicator. The shock of it sent T'Parief sprawling off his rock onto the hard floor of the cave. Scrambling to his feet he saw a flurry of data scrolled up the screen of the nearby tricorder. He was getting a signal!  
His brow rose as he took a closer look at the signal. Wowryk and Jall HAD to see this!  
Now he just had to figure out how to find them.  
He packed up the survival bags. He debated leaving the larger one in the cave, but decided the risk of a primitive Delori stumbling on it was too great.  
He dropped to all fours, easing himself out of the cave. His tricorder showed a group of guards not far from his current location, so he moved as carefully and quietly as he could. The dimming light worked in his favour; by shedding his survival jacket and stuffing it into one pack he was able to use his natural colourings to better blend into the forest. Tapping his tricorder, he kept scanning.  
There!  
With the modifications he'd made to his equipment he was able to pick up Wowryk's and Jall's comm-badge's. They were both in a large structure, roughly two kilometers away. Easing his way forward, he approached the edge of the forest. His head low, tail outstretched and claws forward to better balance, he'd taken on a predatory stance. Stafford had commented once that when T'Parief was running or chasing somebody he looked a little like a velociraptor from an old Earth movie: Jurassic Park. He'd shown the movie at 'Cartoon Night' the following week, even though it wasn't a cartoon. As usual, Fifebee had been most distressed by the scientific contradictions.  
T'Parief, while impressed with the brutal attacks the dinosaurs were capable of, felt secretly that he was far more attractive than a velociraptor. Something that had been confirmed when Yanick made a comment along the same lines.  
His mind wandering, T'Parief completely missed the thick tree root ahead of him. His foot caught it, pulling it halfway out of the ground before he crashed in a very undignified sprawl.  
"Very well," he grunted, picking himself up off the ground, "No more thoughts of Yanick, Fifebee, Stafford or the ship!"  
"Who's there?" a voice cried.  
T'Parief's gaze shot to his tricorder. There was a single life-sign not 20 feet from him. He climbed to his feet as quietly as he could, keeping low. He spotted a Delori guard, dressed in the same boiled leather armor as the rest. His sword was drawn and he was slowly turning towards T'Parief.  
Slitting his eyes and pulling his lips over his fangs (his most visible features, as they could reflect the dim light) he stood perfectly still. His legs were coiled, his claws extended, ready to strike. The guard's gaze passed over him and continued on. As soon as his back was visible, T'Parief sprang.  
He hit the guard solidly, knocking the sword out of his hands and drawing a clawed hand over his mouth to prevent him from shouting out.  
Trying to scream in surprise, the guard flailed around, but was unable to free himself from under T'Parief's solid, heavy body.  
"If you are silent and cooperate," T'Parief hissed in the guard's ear, "you will not be killed. Do you understand?"  
The guard grew still.  
"Good," T'Parief said. He eased his hand free, ready to silence the man if he so much as squeaked.  
"Now tell me," T'Parief said, "About the city…"

"IIIIII…ain't got noboooooody…" Jall sang aimlessly to himself. One of the worst parts about being held captive by Lord Dyer was that is was so damned boring! No vidscreen, no books, no holographic video games…nothing! He'd been sufficiently bored that at one point he'd actually tried twiddling his thumbs. It didn't work out so well…his thumbs somehow kept missing each other. Annoyed, he'd started going through the pockets of his survival jacket, hoping to find something mildly entertaining. The closest he'd gotten to 'entertaining' was the user manual for the Swiss Army knife. He'd been somewhat interested (and this shows how bored he really was) to learn that Starfleet had almost switched over to the Andorian Armada knife, but decided that a tool that had eyeball gougers and lung extractors as optional accessories didn't really fit with the desired Starfleet image.  
So he'd moved on to singing. After going through half of Phantom of the Opera he'd decided to switch to something more modern and wound up spending half an hour singing the lyrics to the musical episode of Days of Honor: 'Once More, You Die Slowly'.  
"Stop that infernal racket!"  
The cell door slammed against the stone wall, sending a 10-legged spider scurrying for safety.  
"It is time," the guard gave an evil leer.  
"Um really," Jall said, "I have a watch and everything, see? It's really NOT time…"  
The guard grabbed the wrist on which Jall's watch was mounted and slammed it into the wall, breaking the watch (and nearly Jall's wrist) to pieces.  
"Witchcraft!" snarled the guard.  
"My grandfather gave me that!" Jall objected, "He wasn't a witch! The real witch is upstairs playing footsie with your evil master…"  
The guard grabbed him roughly by the scruff of the neck and pushed him out the door. Another guard was waiting and together they hauled him out of the dungeon.  
Jall watched carefully for a chance to escape. He almost bolted at the first cross-corridor, but the guards tightened their grip, anticipating his move.  
After several twists and turns and a brief trip from the main keep, he found himself in the guard barracks. Two rows of bunks lined the edges of the room while narrow tables filled the space between the rows. A dozen guards were seated at the tables, facing a metal frame complete with cuffs for arms and legs. Jall whimpered as he was strapped in.  
"Look, guys," he said, "I know I'm cute and all, but-"  
The guard cuffed him across the face.  
"Shut up," the guard said, "Learning this stuff is tough enough without your whining!"  
Learning?  
The guards turned to face him, paying close attention as an older man walked into the room. He approached a table that had been set in one corner, on which a variety of straps and blades were resting.  
"Welcome," he said grimly, "To 'Torture and Maiming 101',"  
Jall gulped.

"Dessert, my dear?" Lord Dyer asked.  
"Uh, not yet thanks," Wowryk said through a mouthful of something that was either purple hummas or some kind of weird species of tuna fish, "I'm still eating!"  
She reached for another bowl, pulling it closer and dumping some black, spongy leaves onto her plate. Forcing herself to swallow, she daintily sampled one leave.  
Banking on what she knew about nutrition, she'd paced herself. She's left the more filling items like the meats, breads and pastas alone and had focused on 'greens' (purples, in this case) and anything that looked liquidy and easy to digest.  
"You've been eating for quite some time now," Dyer said, a cross expression growing on his innocent-looking face, "A lesser man would be concerned that perhaps you do not wish to experience my manliness,"  
"Er," Wowryk bit her lower lip.  
"Of course," Dyer went on, "Any woman in my kingdom knows that to refuse me means a very unpleasant death,"  
"AHHHHH!"  
Wowryk's gaze shot to the windows as the sound of a scream, possibly Jall's, came through.  
"Ah, I see the guards have begun with your friend," Dyer smiled, putting his hands behind his head.  
"That's perverse!" Wowryk seethed, "I don't know what's worse, the group sex or the-"  
"What?" Dyer shot straight up, "Sex?"  
"You know! You were sending him to your guards for 'their amusement'…"  
"Oh, that's disgusting," Dyer sneered, "And yet so perfectly evil…" he trailed off and his gaze blanked. He shook his head abruptly, "No, even I'm not that evil," he said, "My guards have a training class this evening,"  
"Training class?" Wowryk raised an eyebrow. Hmm. Maybe Dyer wasn't quite as bad as she thought.  
"Well, of course," Dyer shrugged, "They need to learn how to torture innocent prisoners somewhere, don't they?"  
Wowryk blew out an exasperated breath.

"Observe!" the 'trainer', Tadeuse, said sharply, "This area of the body-"  
Jall shrieked again.  
"-can generate great pain with little damage to the victim," he finished.  
"Um," Jall gasped, "Can you NOT do that again?"  
One of the guards raised a hand.  
"Yes?" Tadeuse asked  
"Lord Dyer said that the point of torture is to create as gruesome a mess as possible," the guard said, looking a little shy.  
"Torture for some is a sport," Tadeuse said, "For others, it is an art! Gruesome messes usually mean quick deaths, and that rather defeats the point of a good torturing," He pulled an oddly shaped probe from the table and slid it under Jall's skin, probing at a sensitive nerve junction. Jall screamed again.  
"Now," Tadeuse said, flipping the instrument around and holding it towards the guards, handle first, "Your turn,"  
Jall gulped.

3 guards later Jall had some small but nasty cuts and very hoarse throat. He was just getting ready to beg for death, to hell with how melodramatic it was, when the door to the barracks exploded inward.  
"RRAAARRRGGGHHH!" T'Parief roared, crouching in the doorway, his damp skin giving his chest and arms a shine to match his fangs. His claws were fully extended, his head down and forward.  
"DRAGON!" shouted the guards. They milled in confusion for a moment; their weapons were on the wall by the door! Quickly, Tadeuse grabbed one of the probes off the table and hurtled it at T'Parief.  
The instrument, while dangerous to a soft-skinned being, bounced off T'Parief's scaled hide.  
He leapt at the nearest guard, claws flashing in the dim torchlight. The guard gave a shriek that cut off in a gurgle as his lungs were ripped open. No sooner had he pulled his fingers out of the corpse then he was slashing the throat out of the next one.  
"Magnificent," Tadeuse managed to say as his heart was ripped from his chest.  
It was over quickly.  
"T'Parief!" Jall wheezed, hanging limply from the cuffs, "I'm actually really, really happy to see you! And not a moment too soon!"  
"Actually, I was outside watching for several minutes,"  
"And why didn't you save me sooner?" Jall cried.  
"It looked as though you were having fun," T'Parief shrugged.  
"Fun?"  
"This is not something you enjoy?" T'Parief said, mouth twisted.  
"Er, not with real torture equipment," Jall said sheepishly as T'Parief unlocked the cuffs.  
"We should hurry," the Security Chief said, "The others will be on alert by now,"  
"What about Wowryk?" Jall asked.  
"Our next stop,"  
"Shouldn't you've rescued her first?"  
"No," T'Parief held up a finger, "First, it appears she is with the ruler of this city. To free her would be to instantly alert him to our presence,"  
"Right, Lord Dyer," Jall confirmed, "Uh, and the second reason?"  
"She is far more capable of defending herself then you are,"  
"Oh," Jall blinked, "HEY!"  
Giving Jall a good shove towards the rear of the barracks building and down the very short alley to the rear entrance of the Great Hall, T'Parief took a quick moment to slip the data chip from his tricorder into a pocket. Tricorder footage of Jall being tortured. Now THERE was something for his scrapbook! Too bad the tricorder didn't have a full holo-imager included. But he would make do.  
Finished with the minor pleasantries, he focused his attention on the Great Hall. He may despise Jall, but Wowryk was, er, respectable. He had two crewmates left, and he wasn't going to let some venzik-ikvar (sh**-heat) despot take them!  
"What does this Dyer person want with Wowryk?" he asked Jall.  
"What does any sane male want with Wowryk?" Jall shot back.  
"Her recipe for steak tar-tar?" T'Parief asked.  
"No,"  
"Membership to her Bible study-group?"  
"What any male wants from her but can't get!" Jall clarified.  
"Oh," T'Parief nodded, "Sex,"  
"'Bout time!"  
T'Parief cocked his head.  
"Have you considered," T'Parief said slowly, "that perhaps it is Lord Dyer we should be rescuing?"

"Er, could you pass that weird purple stuff again?" Wowryk asked politely. No sooner did the words leave her mouth than they were chased by a loud belch.  
"Oh my, pardon me," she said.  
"Enough of this!" Dyer said. He jumped to his feet and shrugged off the thick cloak he'd been wearing. His outer tunic quickly followed until he had on only a linen shirt along with his leather breeches, "It's time to have my evil way with you!"  
Wowryk quickly stepped back.  
"Um," she struggled to find a way to be polite. She didn't want Dyer to call his guards in to hold her down, but at the same time she had to make him stop, "It's not you, it's me?"  
Dyer advanced around the table.  
"I have a headache!" she tried.  
"Tell the truth," Dyer leered, "You want me! Bad!"  
"I'm saving myself until I get married," Wowryk said defiantly.  
Dyer stared at her for a moment, his expression softening. Wowryk began to hope that maybe, just maybe that had done it.  
"MWA—HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!" Dyer laughed explosively, clutching his middle as he doubled over. His maniacal laugh gave way to a fit of giggles.  
"You want…" he tried, "You want to…ha-ha…save yourself?" Dyer tried to get himself under control, "My dear, nobody can save you now!"  
This would be a perfect cue for Jall or T'Parief to come bursting through that door, Wowryk thought to herself.  
Nothing happened.  
Unreliable heathens, Wowryk mused. Dyer had recovered from his laughter and was advancing on her again.  
"It won't be so bad," he said, "Just because I'm evil doesn't mean I'm bad in bed,"  
"I'm warning you," Wowryk said, her back bumping up against the wall.  
"You're warning me?" Dyer looked like he might double over laughing again.  
"You put your hands on me," Wowryk said darkly, "And I can't be responsible for the consequences!"  
Dyer grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing his mouth to hers.  
As least the meal had made a marginal improvement on his breath, Wowryk realized. She started struggling, twisting her head away from Dyer.  
"Yeah, that's it!" Dyer breathed, "I like it when they put up a fight!"  
He pressed his groin against her, and the world vanished in a red haze.

Jall and T'Parief snuck through the stone passageway leading from the Great Hall to the dining room. T'Parief cocked his head.  
"Do you hear that?"  
Jall listened. Faintly, he could hear cursing and grunting, along with cries of pain and fear. Something hit the floor with a clatter…one of those metal dishes?  
"Sounds like somebody's in a fight," Jall observed.  
"Brilliant," T'Parief moved faster, "Come, let's save the good doctor,"  
"Or her virginity, anyway," Jall sighed, following.

They pushed the doors to the dining room open, after T'Parief relieved the two guards watching the room of their weapons, along with most of their blood.  
Wowryk was leaning over a vat in one corner, a finger down her throat, emptying her bloated stomach.  
"That's not very healthy," Jall chided.  
"Neither is eating as much as I had to," she shot back, "What took you two so long?"  
"I was in more danger that you," Jall said, "He had to save me first!"  
"How absurd," Wowryk sniffed, "Surely saving me from being ravaged by this animal was more important!"  
"Hey, the dragon's not supposed to rescue the damsel in distress!"  
"Dragon?" T'Parief queried.  
"Don't ask,"  
A grunting in the corner drew their attention to Lord Dyer. He was lying on the huge table, his arms and legs bound with leather straps taken from his cloths. His head lolled, a badly dented wine flagon nearby explaining the large bump on the back of his head.  
"What happened here?" Jall asked.  
"He started doing," Wowryk searched for a delicate way to put it, "man stuff," she said finally.  
"Drinking?" T'Parief asked, confused.  
"Watching sports?" Jall chimed in.  
"Killing and eating fearsome animals?"  
"Oh forget it!" Wowryk seethed, "Let's just get out of here before more guards show up!"  
"Agreed," T'Parief nodded.  
Before Wowryk could move, Jall seized her in a hug.  
"I'm SOOO glad to see you again!" he said.  
They left.

Their escape from the city wasn't difficult. The attacks on the barracks and Lord Dyer, along with the reports that the dragon was in the city had sent the place into chaos. Wowryk and Jall had pulled a tapestry off the wall, which T'Parief wrapped around himself like a cloak. Sticking to smaller, darker alleys they made their way to the city gate. The guards were gone, probably to the castle. Stealing a pair of six-legged horse-like animals from the nearby stable they rushed at top speed for the cover and safety of the forest.  
Once they were a safe distance from the city, T'Parief let the tapestry drop to his shoulders. They slowed their mounts to a walk.  
"Well," Wowryk said, "I'm glad that's over with,"  
"Yeah," Jall said, "Just why is it that I'm always the one that gets tortured?"  
"Justice," T'Parief said simply.  
"You know," Jall said, "You can be as evil as you want-"  
"Please don't use that word," Wowryk muttered, "ever again,"  
"But I know you're happy to see us too," Jall went on.  
"And why is that?" T'Parief asked.  
"Because all we have right now is each other!" Jall said.  
The relaxed atmosphere generated by their banter vanished, replaced by an uneasy silence as the reality of their situation sank back in. The 'visit' to Dyer's kingdom had been a needed distraction from the fact that they were stranded on an alien planet, unreachable by Starfleet, their ship destroyed and their friends and crewmates probably dead.  
"You are right," T'Parief acknowledged softly, "Patricia would want me to be…" he choked up.  
"Nice?" Jall asked. Wowryk started sniffling, tears welling in her eyes.  
"Tolerant," T'Parief finished.  
"Chris would be proud of you," Wowryk said, "All he's wanted since that thing with Yvonnokoff is for everybody to bond,"  
Bond? T'Parief and Jall exchanged worried glances.  
"Let's not go too far here," Jall said, "We're…tolerating each other. No bonding!"  
"It's a start," Wowryk said sadly.  
"We might see them again," Jall said, "We don't know they're all dead,"  
"I almost forgot," T'Parief started digging for his tricorder, "I had gone searching for you for a reason,"  
"Besides rescuing us?" Wowryk asked.  
"I was unaware you had needed rescuing until I reached the city," T'Parief said, "I succeeded in modifying my comm-badge to send and receive planetary signals,"  
"Only planetary?" Jall frowned, "So we can't reach a ship in orbit,"  
"Not yet," T'Parief said, "It seems the interference in the upper atmosphere is too great. But I did receive this:" he held the tricorder screen so they could see it, its readouts bright in the dim light of the planet's two moons.  
"HOLY SHIT!" Jall exclaimed, jolting so hard he almost fell off his 'horse'.  
"What is it?" Wowryk asked, "Is it another survivor?"  
"No!" Jall said, "It's an automated distress beacon! Silverado's automated distress beacon!"  
"So that means the ship wasn't destroyed?" Wowryk asked.  
"No," Jall shook his head, "No starship could survive an uncontrolled plunge into the atmosphere like that. But it means that somewhere in the wreckage, the emergency subspace beacon is in one piece!"  
"And we can very likely use it to break through the interference and call for help," T'Parief added.  
"What are we waiting for?" Wowryk asked, "Where is it? How far away? How do we get there?"  
"Thataway," T'Parief gestured with a claw, "Approximately 3 hundred kilometers."  
"Long way," Jall mused.  
"Then let's get going," Wowryk said, urging her mount forward.

TO BE CONTINUED

Did anybody else make it off Silverado? Are there more evil despots like the Evil Lord Dyer? Will I finally stop using evil in every second sentence? Find out in Star Traks - Silverado 3.8: 'Breathing Space'!


	8. Short Connections

Star Traks: Silverado

3.8 "Short Connections"

Departure:

Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffery tapped frantically at the Engineering console on Silverado's bridge.  
"Chris," Noonan was saying, "It's time to abandon ship,"  
"NO!" Stafford cried. The rest of his protest was lost to Jeffery as he frantically re-routed shield control to independent processors.  
Silverado was in the process of being dragged into the atmosphere of Delorea 2. A ship commanded by Lord Stalart, a being they had mistaken as a baby for over a year, had a tractor beam solidly locked onto them and was pulling them down. To make matters worse, Stalart had ripped Sylvia out of the computer core. The sudden removal of the AI, who had been deeply intertwined into the ship's systems, had sent the entire computer network from the isolinear processing banks to the bio-neural gel-packs into a state of cybernetic shock. If Silverado had been a living thing, she would be in the midst of a seizure.  
"All hands," Stafford called, his voice ringing through the emergency all-call, "Abandon ship. Repeat," he grimaced, sounding like he had something stuck in his throat," All hand, abandon ship."  
The evacuation alert sounded as the ship shook again. Jeffery's gaze shot to the small dome in the bridge ceiling. Already he could see the atmosphere thickening outside the ship.  
"Fifebee!" Jeffery gasped to himself. He tapped frantically at his panel, trying to get her program downloaded into a portable chip.  
"C'mon, Jeffery!" Jall called, jumping into the emergency hatch next to the turbolift, "Party's over,"  
"Not yet!" Jeffery cried. The computer was refusing to respond. He tried locating Fifebee's program, but wound up with Yanick's horse riding program. Not bothering to wonder if T'Parief knew about the cowboys, he tried again. Behind him, he was dimly aware of Stafford and Noonan arguing angrily.  
The arguing suddenly ceased.  
Seconds later, Stafford was pulling Jeffery away from the panel.  
"Come on," he said dully.  
"But," Jeffery stammered, "Fifebee!"  
"No time,"  
Jeffery swallowed, knowing Stafford was right.  
He followed Stafford and Yanick down the ladder to Deck 2 where 6 command-level escape pods were housed. Jall, T'Parief and Wowryk were already sealed in Pod 1. Not sure if he should be happy or upset that he couldn't be with the doctor, Jeffery followed Stafford and Yanick into Pod 2.  
"What about Matt?" Yanick asked frantically.  
"There're 4 more pods," Stafford said, "He'll manage,"  
The ship shook hard around them, harder than ever before. Everybody fell to the floor of the pod, flailing for hand-holds.  
"What was THAT?" Jeffery asked, pulling himself back into his seat and activating the restraints.  
"No time!" Stafford shouted. Checking that they were belted in, he punched the 'LAUNCH' control.  
The hatch above them blasted open and the pod shot loose of the doomed ship. Jeffery caught a brief glimpse of Silverado's hull, the metal starting to glow red with the heat of re-entry. He could see other escape pods blasting free as other members of the skeleton crew made their escape.  
The pod suddenly spun out of control as something, something big, grazed past them, the turbulence from its passage pulling at the pod like a whirlpool. As Jeffery watched he could see two of the escape pods collide. They spun off in separate directions, intact but out of control.  
Struggling to help Stafford land their own pod, Jeffery brought up a surface scan. The temporal interference blocked almost everything of use, but he could see that they were heading for the larger continent north of the equator.  
By the time he was able to look again, Silverado and the other escape pods were gone.

Week One:

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Yanick asked.  
"Positive," Stafford said firmly, "We have everything?"  
"Survival gear," Jeffery said, hefting a heavy backpack, "Tents, food, tricorders and phasers,"  
"I hope you've got those well-hidden," Stafford said, "If we've landed where you say we have, this place won't take very kindly to energy weapons,"  
"We have," Jeffery said, "I know darned well I saw a city pass under us on the way down. I'm sure Fifebee would tell ye it's equivalent to late 20th or early 21st century Earth," he swallowed, "God rest her soul,"  
"It's not your fault," Stafford said firmly, "It's Stalart's. And we'll get him,"  
Neither man spoke.  
Yanick, sensing the tension, tried to plaster a smile on her face.  
"You were saying you wanted to get outside more often," she said.  
Stafford 's face remained cold.  
"Y'know…" Yanick said, "around the trees and squirrels and lizards,"  
Stafford said nothing.  
"Lizards," Yanick repeated softly, tearing up.  
"OK, let's just get this out," Stafford said sharply, "The ship's gone, anybody who survived is now marooned on this planet and we're not even sure if everybody made if off,"  
"Ah know at least one person who didn't," Jeffery said, thinking of Fifebee.  
"So we need to establish ourselves here and wait for help to arrive," Stafford said, "Admiral Tunney will send somebody to investigate when they lose contact with us. That's two weeks we have, minimum, before anybody comes looking for us. And even then they won't be able to find us through the interference unless we're doing something that makes us easy to find. That's our priority. We'll cry about the spilt milk later,"  
"At least we left a lot of people at Starbase 45," Yanick said hopefully.  
"Yeah, we did something smart for a change," Jeffery said.  
"Let's get to work," Stafford said curtly.  
With his little speech done, Stafford turned and put some distance between himself and the escape pod. When the others had joined him he tapped a button on his tricorder.  
The self-destruct charge in the escape pod detonated, blasting the pod into the tiny pieces, ensuring that the local inhabitants would learn nothing of Federation technology.

Stafford, having used his tricorder, had determined that their pod had landed less than 50 kilometers from a major coastal city, prepared to get underway. Gathering their survival gear, they set off in the direction of what appeared to be a major highway. The sun was already descending towards the horizon, indicating that the day was nearly over.  
"OK," Stafford said, "So we're looking at a culture equivalent to Earth in the late 20th century. Anybody remember the Richter rating for that?"  
"Oy," Jeffery said, scratching his head, "Would that be a C-7? or a B-3?"  
"I dunno," Yanick said, "I kinda spaced out when we were doing the Richter Scale of Culture at the Academy," she frowned, "They had this Vulcan come in to explain it. But I really don't think he understood it either,"  
"Nobody understands it," Jeffery grumbled, "Except for old Alonzo Richter, and he's been dead for decades. If they did, we wouldn't bother comparing every planet to Earth!"  
"Just trying to lighten the mood," Stafford muttered softly, "Forget it,"  
"And that reminds me of this other time," Yanick went on, oblivious to what the other two were saying, "There was this Vulcan, and he, like, was totally horned up. Said his pony was far away. I think. I have no idea what that has to do with wanting to get under my pants, but he said it would help out. But I, like, had heard from this one girlfriend of mine that Vulcan's are really bad in bed. Somebody about how it's illogical to pleasure the female if her orgasm isn't needed to make babies. But, y'know, I don't want a baby yet, so what do…"  
"How long a walk are we looking at?" Jeffery asked Stafford.  
"Hours," Stafford said back.  
"Well, do we have a plan?"  
"Not really. Not yet," Stafford's voice was flat.  
"Ah really think we need a plan," Jeffery insisted, "Like, right now,"  
"Huh," Stafford shrugged, "Well, you're entitled to your opinions I guess,"  
Jeffery frowned.  
The two men walked in near silence, making small, non-committal sounds anytime it seemed like Yanick was waiting for an answer as she chattered on. They weren't really aware of it, but Yvonnokoff could have told them that at some level Yanick was just desperate to talk about something, anything other than their current situation. Stafford found himself falling into the rhythm of her words. He noticed the bluish colour of the foliage, the colour of the sky and the soft breeze. His mind clicked over almost mechanically, analyzing different ways for them to survive on the planet until they were rescued. Should they have stayed with the pod? Its emergency beacon wasn't strong enough to break through the interference, but maybe it would have made a good base of operations? Were they better off in the countryside where their life-signs would stand out, or in the city where they could try to find a way to send out a signal? Was there any wreckage of Silverado they could salvage?  
His mind did a little flip and went blank.  
And started clicking again. Should they have stayed with the pod? Its emergency beacon wasn't strong enough….  
Etc, etc.  
"And that reminds me of this OTHER friend of mine who fooled around with a Romulan once," Yanick was still going on, "And SHE said that they have the same endowments as Vulcans, but they're much more skilled. But y'know, that size thing doesn't really matter that much. Unless you're talking about shuttles or vid-screens. My brother bugged Mom and Dad for MONTHS because he thought his 45-inch vid-screen was too small. So they finally got him an 80-inch screen, and I got the smaller one. Cuz, y'know, vidscreens are SO ugly and hard to design around that anything bigger than 45 would have looked weird in my quarters…"

Some time later, the sun had dropped completely out of sight behind a line of trees, the sky turning a brilliant orange as it set. Stafford and Jeffery were still walking quietly while Yanick talked.  
"That reminds me of this one saying my Daddy always used to say," Yanick said, "I don't remember it, or why he said it. But I'm still reminded of it…"  
Jeffery clenched his teeth as he walked between Stafford and Yanick, eyes flickering between his companions. Stafford's eyes looked dead as he took in their surroundings. Yanick's eyes had been looking all over the area without seeming to really see anything. He started wondering just where exactly they were going. They didn't have a plan, after all. They were just wandering in the general direction of the city. But what would they do once they got there? What would they eat? Where would they sleep? What if they were so different in appearance from the Delori inhabitants that they had to stay hidden?  
How they HELL were they going to escape?  
"But I don't think she'll marry him," Yanick said, "I mean, Sam's a good guy. He's my brother, and I love him. But, y'know, it's not like most girls really go for that kind of thing. I keep telling him he'd be better off dating an Andorian,"  
"You don't say," Stafford said absently, brain still running though its shell-shocked cycle.  
"I have no idea why that girl was so mean to me at the Academy," Yanick went on, "I mean, I know her boyfriend was dancing with me at the Holiday Blitz, but it's not like we were gonna do anything! I mean, I'm pretty sure he was just trying to make her jealous anyway, so-"  
"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT YER FRICKIN' MOUTH!" Jeffery screamed.  
Yanick came to a dead stop and spun to face him, mouth open. Tears were already forming in her eyes.  
"Hmmm?" Stafford said absently, already several steps ahead of them.  
"We're stranded here!" Jeffery shouted, "Alone! Castaways! The ship, MY SHIP, our HOME, has been blasted into space dust, our friends could be dead," Jeffery gulped, "Noel…Noel could be dead," he picked up steam again, shaking a finger at Yanick, "and all ye care about is interior decorating and the size of a Romulan's penis? If ye don't have something helpful to say, just…just…shut yer trap!"  
Yanick stared at him for a moment, then turned away and ran off into the trees, sobbing.  
Stafford stared wordlessly at Jeffery.  
"Uh, Simon," he said, "You know, she was just trying to pass the time,"  
"PASS the TIME?" Jeffery screamed.  
"We need to keep ourselves occupied,"  
"They why aren't we planning?" Jeffery snapped, "Gettin' ideas? Gettin' our act together? Have ye thought about what we're gonna do? How we're gonna get off this planet?"  
"I've been working on it," Stafford said calmly, "Simon, we've been through this. Back at the life-boat,"  
"Aye!" Jeffery seized on Stafford's words, "Ye told us we had to break through the interference. Ye cared! Ye had a plan! But now, now yer just standin' there like a Pakled in front of a navigational deflector! That was YOUR SHIP that short little bastard blew up, and I'd treated him almost like a son! So f**king take control of the situation or-"  
Stafford's fist swung out and clipped Jeffery neatly on the chin, sending the smaller man spinning as he fell to the ground.  
"How's that for control?" Stafford said hoarsely.  
Jeffery responded by swinging his legs around and knocking Stafford off his feet. Stafford fell heavily, the air knocked out of him. Before he could get to his feet Jeffery had pounced on him, the two men rolling around, each struggling to pin the other. Stafford managed to get Jeffery under him, but the smaller man squirmed free. They both leapt to their feet and faced each other warily, each man crouched and ready.  
"Oh my God!" Yanick exclaimed. Since nobody had come to comfort her, she'd returned to find the guys wrestling around, "What's going on!"  
"Jeffery's out of line!" Stafford spat, "With both of us!"  
"Ye hit me!" Jeffery panted, "Ah can't believe ye actually hit me!"  
"Being upset about Stalart doesn't give you the right to treat us like shit!" Stafford shot back, "What would Wowryk say?"  
"Don't bring her into this!"  
"Both of you stop it!" Yanick cried, "I don't want us to fight!"  
Jeffery looked at her for the first time since she'd left and saw her tear-streaked face. Her blue eyes were wide with fear, her blond hair had come loose from it's ponytail to fall around her face. She looked terrified.  
Jeffery's world spun.  
"Trish," he choked, "Ah…Ah'm so sorry! Ah don't know why…Ah had no right…"  
"No, you didn't-" Stafford started, but Yanick turned on him too.  
"You!" she said, "You're supposed be our Captain! It's your job to look out for us! To keep us…keep us going…"  
They stood in silence for several moments  
"Look," Stafford said, "Let's camp here. Jeffery, get some wood for a fire. Yanick, find some water. I'll start setting up the tents. Tomorrow morning we'll sit down and figure out what we're going to do. OK?"  
Wordlessly, Yanick and Jeffery turned and left, leaving in opposite directions.  
"I really don't need this," Stafford said to himself, standing suddenly alone in the wilderness.

The next morning didn't start off much better.  
The three officers packed up their tents, ate a meager breakfast of emergency rations and continued their trek to the city.  
Words were scarce. Yanick just walked behind the other two, looking miserable and saying nothing. Stafford and Jeffery walked side by side, neither looking at the other.  
Finally, Jeffery spoke up.  
"We can't be the only survivors," he said.  
"Probably not," Stafford said curtly.  
"And those survivors are going to want to find other survivors," Jeffery went on.  
"Uh-huh,"  
"So they're going to be looking for us too," Jeffery continued, "Which means we should be someplace where we can easily look for them while they look for us. A cultural and communications center, maybe with some science facilities nearby, what passes for a news service-"  
"Someplace like the city I'm leading you all to anyway?" Stafford cut him off.  
"Well…aye…"  
"Just because I haven't consulted you on every step doesn't mean I haven't been thinking," Stafford said curtly, "I don't need constant advice. I got along just fine without you while you and Syl-" his voice caught for a moment, "When you and Sylvia were running around for Tunney, didn't I?"  
"Chris," Yanick said, her voice slightly pleading, "Please, don't argue,"  
"So we get to the city," Jeffery pressed, choosing to ignore Stafford's jab, for Yanick's sake, "Then what? We live as beggars? Sleep under a handy bridge? Hope that whatever passes for the police won't arrest us for being poor?"  
As they spoke, the trees ahead cleared and they found themselves not far from a busy highway. Six-wheeled ground cars of a clearly alien design were zipping in both directions. A nearby sign was in an incomprehensible alien language, but had an image of what was universally a toilet.  
"Let's hitch a ride," Stafford said, ignoring Jeffery's question, "Once we get to the city-"  
"I have a plan!" Jeffery interrupted.  
Stafford's mouth tightened in annoyance. His initial reaction was to tell Jeffery to take his plan and cram it up his torpedo tube, but something stopped him. His mind flashed back to the previous night, Yanick saying 'You're supposed to be our Captain!" in her sad, pleading voice. He WAS supposed to be the Captain, and a piss-poor job he was doing of it too. He'd always allowed, even gone with, the very casual attitude his people took in regards to protocol. It hadn't been a problem, because up until now they'd always been able to set aside their differences and work as a professional unit when a true emergency came up. Most of the time anyway. His recent experiences with Yvonnokoff and the fracturing of his bridge crew's personal relationships had reminded him that while his people each had their own ideas, attitudes and eccentricities, it was up to him to merge them into a working whole.  
And he was failing. Again. Even though the two people with him were the two he usually found easiest to deal with on ship, his attitude with Jeffery was preventing them from working together. It was time for him to do what he wanted the others to do: push aside his personal issues and focus on doing his job as best he could.  
Taking a deep breath, he turned to his Chief Engineer.  
"I certainly would appreciate your input," he said carefully and neutrally.  
Jeffery looked surprised.  
"Ye would?"

Several hours later, a kind Delori man was dropping them off in what he'd informed them was the city of Dufarekia.  
It had taken a few tries before they were able to successfully hitchhike. The first problem had been flagging a vehicle down. The second was getting the Delori driver to speak long enough for their Universal Translators to get a hang of the language. The first 4 drivers, upon learning that the trio only spoke an incomprehensible (alien, but they didn't know that) language simply rolled up their windows and drove on. The fifth nearly had a heart attack when, halfway though his attempt to explain to the three why he couldn't carry foreigners, they suddenly started speaking perfect Delori. Armed with functional Universal Translators, it was an easy matter to request a lift from the sixth driver.  
"OK," Stafford said, "Now what?"  
They were at a busy intersection. The buildings had become progressively taller the closer they moved to the core of the city and while they were still far from the central district, the apartments and commercial buildings around them stretched at least 15, sometimes 20 stories into the air. They'd also noticed that the Delori, like humans, came in a variety of different colours. Some were a pale, pale white. Sort of like Dr. Wowryk. But rather than getting progressively browner, like many humans, their skin took on a blue-grey hue. The darkest Delori they saw had skin that was such a dark grey shade he looked like granite.  
"I wouldn't mind one of those," Yanick said, pointing to where a grey-faced man was serving what looked like roasted rats on a stick.  
"We have no money," Stafford pointed out.  
"Have no fear," Jeffery assured him, "Ah remember ye telling me about that little trick you pulled back on 21st Century Earth,"  
"Huh?"  
"You know," Yanick said, "When Jall messed up the computer and we accidentally went back in time? On our very first mission?"  
"Yeah, I remember that," Stafford nodded, keeping a smile on his face and trying not to look annoyed, "I just don't remember what we did,"  
"Just follow me,"  
Jeffery walked up the street until he saw a sort of terminal set into the side of a building. He walked up to it, tapped on his tricorder for a moment or two, then reached out and withdrew a thick wad of bright blue bills.  
"Now we have money," he said.  
"Oh yeah," Stafford nodded, "I remember now,"  
"We should probably clear the area though," Jeffery warned, "That thing might have an alarm that goes off when people reprogram it to start spitting out money,"  
"Good thinking," Stafford nodded. Positive reinforcement, he reminded himself, "I really appreciate your input, and understand the effort you had to put into making this happen,"  
"Don't patronize me!" Jeffery said.  
Stafford mentally sighed.  
They bought Yanick her rat-thing-on-a-stick then moved quickly away from the ATM.  
After an hour spent exploring the streets of the city, Jeffery gestured for them to stop.  
"OK," he said, pulling out his tricorder, "Now, follow me…"  
Stafford bit his lip. HE was supposed to be in charge!  
'Use your resources' he could almost hear Yvonnokoff lecturing him, 'Let your people do what they must!"  
"After you, Jeffery," he said through clenched teeth.  
The sun was setting again by the time Jeffery found what he was looking for. Leading them to a very large, concrete building, he stopped outside a side entrance.  
"OK," he said, "This buildin's a major hub of data traffic. Ah've been tracking it on me tricorder. Ah'm pickin' up fiber optics, microwave signals, some kinda wireless data network, the works,"  
"What kinda optics?" Yanick asked innocently.  
"Old stuff," Jeffery said.  
"OK," Stafford said, "You've explained to us that we need to find some kind of central records place, and you think you've found it. But shouldn't we be asking people about what's in here?"  
"Naww," Jeffery waved him off, "Don't wanna go raising suspicions, right?"  
"Um, right," Stafford frowned.

Jeffery tapped at his tricorder, scanning the building for security systems, guards, anything that could hinder his plan.  
Jeffery wasn't really sure why exactly Stafford had done such a sudden about-face in attitude, switching from ignoring his ideas to welcoming them, but he wasn't really going to complain. He'd known Stafford since their Academy days, and he knew the other man could be stubborn, proud and more than a little afraid of failure. He'd been worried about his friend when he took command of Silverado. Of all the crew, only Jeffery had known ahead of time about Operation Salvage, and keeping that secret from Stafford had done more than a bit of damage to their friendship. Over the next year and a half, Stafford had mellowed again, becoming more like himself and less like an angry, disappointed boy who'd been given a lump of coal for Christmas instead of a new bike. The whole situation with the universe filled with their super-competent counterparts hadn't helped, with Stafford assuming all was well and pretty much cutting himself off from his staff, but he'd worked hard to counter that after Yvonnokoff had brought the matter up.  
Jeffery couldn't blame Stafford for being shaken up over the destruction of his ship, even if he hadn't even wanted it to begin with. Jeffery had, by far, poured far more time and effort into that junk heap than any other member of the crew and if anybody had a right to be pissed off, it was him! He'd adopted Lord Stalart, taken the kid to ball-games on the Holodeck, spent time with him, tried to help Wowryk take care of the kid. Up until his relationship with Wowryk had fallen apart anyway. Now, not only was Wowryk either dead or stranded far away, his 'son' had kidnapped Sylvia and destroyed his ship! Damn right he was angry!  
"OK," he said, snapped his tricorder shut with unnecessary force, "Let me find an access panel, and I'll get us in,"  
"Uh, why do we want in?" Yanick asked.  
"Just trust me," Jeffery said. His words were polite, but the tone was hard.  
He blew out a frustrated breath as he located and opened an electrical box and started crossing wires. It wasn't Yanick's fault. It wasn't Stafford, even if the asshole had punched him. He knew he shouldn't be taking his anger out on them, he knew it damned well. But he had to take it out somewhere! If he didn't, he'd build up pressure until he exploded into a million pieces! He…had…to….SNAP!"  
"AAAARRRRGHHHHHH!" Jeffery screamed, ripped the box off it's mount and slamming it to the ground. He started stomping on it with his heavy survival boots, flattening the flimsy metal until it was nothing but an unrecognizable heap.  
Stafford and Yanick looked at him for a moment.  
"Feeling better now?" Stafford said dryly.  
"Aye," Jeffery gulped "C'mon, the security system is disabled,"  
"Right," Stafford said, throwing a last uneasy glance at the busted-up box, "'Disabled', he says,"

Yanick followed Stafford and Jeffery as they walked quietly down the darkened corridors of the building.  
It was, as Jeffery had said, 'A data node'. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that, but didn't really care. After all, Jeffery was a smart guy. He knew what he was doing. As usual, she'd just hang back until there was piloting to be done, cute guys to flirt with or fashion decisions to be made.  
Yanick didn't appear to be as upset about the loss of the ship as the other two, she wasn't breaking stuff, punching people or shouting, but everybody has different ways of dealing with pressure. Yanick's mind simply refused to process what had happened. She knew, at some level, how serious their situation was, but before she could dwell on it her mind would slide off as it noticed an interesting cloud formation, a cute animal running through the forest or a funny shadow on the wall of the building they were infiltrating. Part of the reason why she became so upset when Stafford and Jeffery started fighting was the fact that it made her focus on their predicament. As long as they got along, her mind could just pretend they were on an away team, or an undercover mission-  
Ohhh! What's that shiny object?

As Yanick contemplated a strange alien piece of artwork, Jeffery located the room he wanted. A few taps on his tricorder and the door gave a beep and open.  
"You know," he mused, contemplating his tricorder "Somebody I met at the Academy once told me ye could get one of these things to do anything if you just push enough buttons,"  
"Really," Stafford said, voice civil.  
"I've heard that the buttons on tricorders are designed so they never wear out," Yanick said dreamily.  
"Keep an eye out," Jeffery said to Stafford, moving into the room.  
Stafford crossed his arms and was about to say something when Jeffery's head poked back out.  
"Keep an eye out please, SIR," he added.  
Grunting, Stafford pulled out his own tricorder and started scanning for life-signs.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and Jeffery showed no signs of being finished.  
"Simon," Stafford hissed, "Somebody's coming! Three life-signs!"  
"Are they coming here?" Jeffery asked.  
"Well what do YOU think!" Stafford shot back, "Would I bother telling you if-"  
He cut himself off.  
"Yes, Simon," he said calmly, "Yes they are,"  
"I see them," Yanick said, looking over Stafford's arm at the tricorder screen, "Hey, that one's different!"  
"Huh?" Stafford frowned, "That's funny, I don't recognize these life readings. They aren't Delori. Or anything the tricorder can recognize,"  
"Oh, I've seen those before," Yanick said casually, "In this pod we picked up at Tantalus V,"  
"Huh?" Stafford frowned.  
"F**K!" Jeffery swore from inside the room.  
"I can't remember anything else," Yanick said, "But there was definitely a pod. And something was in it. But what was it?"  
"STALART!" Stafford cried pointing.  
"Oh yeah," Yanick nodded, "It was-"  
"What a pleasant surprise!"  
Yanick spun to see what Stafford was pointing at.  
Lord Stalart stood in the corridor, his one point five foot height bringing him to about knee level with the two heavy-looking Delori flanking him. Both held primitive weapons He wore his thought-speech translator on his head.  
"I had rather hoped you'd died when your ship crashed," he said casually, "It would have been so much easier,"  
"What do you want!" Yanick cried.  
"Where's Sylvia?!" Stafford demanded.  
"The mechanical bitch?" Stalart spat, "She's my…guest…"  
"Oh come on!" Stafford said, "Like anybody believes that 'guest' line anymore! What are you doing to her! Let her go!"  
"Never!" Stalart said, "She will serve me, or die! The rest of you, well, you'll just die! Kill them," he gestured at Stafford and Yanick.  
Before his thugs could fire, a phaser beam shot out of the room where Jeffery had been remaining as quiet as possible. The Delori to Stalart's left disintegrated. The other fired back, the bullet splintering the doorframe as the sound of the gunshot filled the air. Yanick and Stafford dove to the floor. Another phaser beam shot out, missing both and destroying a sizable chuck of the wall.  
"Retreat!" they heard Stalart shouting. The Delori grabbed him, tucked him under one arm and bolted for the door. Stafford pulled himself from the floor and gave chase.  
He followed them out the front door of the building, emerging just in time to see them jump into a ground vehicle and speed away. He could hear sirens in the distance.  
He returned to where Jeffery was checking to be sure Yanick was OK.  
"Let's get out of here," Stafford said, "Sounds like somebody heard that gunshot,"  
"We have what we need anyway," Jeffery said, waving a thick bundle of paper.

Their retreat from the data center was quick. They casually hailed a private transport, known on other planets as a 'taxi'. Jeffery instructed the driver to take them to 'Darretwik Apartments'. Upon arrival, Jeffery promptly hailed another taxi and instructed him to drop them off at 'Duranwin Inn & Suites'.  
"What the hell was that all about?" Stafford demanded once they had arrived.  
"Ah don't want to leave a trail," Jeffery said, "Now hold yer horses a minute,"  
Jeffery led them into the hotel lobby. It was a nice hotel, not a 5-Star in Yanick's opinion, but it looked decent. The lobby was in great shape, with several comfortable looking couches arranged in a conversation circle. Two passageways led to rooms while a third opened up into a restaurant.  
While Yanick was admiring the décor, Stafford tried to comprehend just when exactly he'd put Jeffery in charge of the mission.  
Jeffery obtained a room for them and led them down one hallway and up a flight of stairs. The door opened into a large room with pleasant furnishings. A primitive cathode-ray tube television sat in one corner, a dresser was conveniently placed for storage and a bizarre, pull-down contraption adorned one corner near the bathroom. A mini-bar took up part of one wall, and appeared to be well-stocked.  
The room was also dominated by a single, huge bed.  
"What the hell is this thing?" Yanick asked, moving over to the contraption and reading the label, "It's the 'Invert-O-Tron: Get Your Daily Inversion Here! 2 chingas.' I wonder what a chinga is?"  
"Local money," Jeffery said, "And the Delori fancy being hung upside down and shaken for about 20 minutes a day,"  
"Why?" Yanick asked.  
Jeffery shrugged.  
"They're aliens," he said.  
"Uh, excuse me," Stafford said, "But I'm still in charge of this mission!"  
"Ye sure are," Jeffery said, patting his shoulder.  
"I mean it!" Stafford said through clenched teeth, "Look, Simon, I want and value your input, but why don't you start explaining things to me BEFORE we do them! We need to be on the same page, especially with that little runt in the picture!"  
"Well fine then," Jeffery grumbled, "If ye insist,"  
"Excellent," Stafford said, an air of finality about him, "So then, why don't you explain to us what…wait…" Stafford frowned, "Why is there only one bed?"  
"It's all they had left," Jeffery said, turning very, very red.  
"Right," Stafford said slowly. He stared expectantly at Jeffery, waiting for the rest of the story.  
"And, er," Jeffery swallowed, "Ah'm married to Trish now,"  
Yanick, who had been humming aimlessly to herself, spun to face Jeffery.  
"What?" she demanded.  
"Ah had to make identities for us!" Jeffery said, speaking very quickly and holding up the stack of paper he'd picked up at the data center, "Ah forged identities for each of us! Birth certificates, driver's licenses, school records, credit ratings, bank accounts! But Ah didn't know enough about the planet to do it all from scratch, so Ah had to take bits and pieces of different records Ah found…and the ones I did most of the copying from were married!"  
"Simon!" Trish whined, "that's…that's…"  
"Brilliant!" Stafford said happily, "Simon, that's perfect! We can fit right into this city for as long as we need! We can watch for signs of other survivors and be ready to make our move when Starfleet comes to rescue us!"  
"Except now we're identity thieves," Yanick grumbled.  
"Nay," Jeffery shook his head, "I stole bits of other people…but not the whole thing. It's not gonna hurt anybody,"  
"Bits of other people," Stafford wrinkled his nose, "That just sounds wrong. But a good idea, all the same,"  
"Aye," Jeffery said, though he still looked nervous, "That's what Ah figured,"  
"Um, so why isn't there a bed for us and a bed for Chris?" Yanick asked.  
Jeffery gulped and looked at the floor.  
Stafford's face fell.  
"Noooo…." Stafford groaned.  
Jeffery only nodded.  
"What?" Yanick asked.  
Fascinatin' thing, really," Jeffery said, "But Ah guess that in this country on Delorea 2, people marry in groups of three,"  
"What?" Yanick cried, "Ick!"  
"That doesn't mean that," Stafford gulped and turned to Jeffery, "I mean, you and I don't-"  
"Oh, no!" Jeffery assured him, "The relationship is entirely heterosexual. Guy and girl only!"  
"Oh thank God," Stafford breathed.  
"Where's Jall when you need him?" Yanick giggled.  
"Hey," Stafford said firmly, "He said heterosexual, not hetero-flexible! And couldn't you have tried a little harder to get us separate rooms?"  
Jeffery shrugged.  
"Ah tried. Just as well, it wouldn't look very convincing if we were in separate rooms,"  
"Couldn't you just tell them it was your turn with her?" Stafford snapped.  
"NOBODY IS GETTING A TURN WITH ME!" Yanick shouted, fists clenched.  
"Whatever," Stafford shook his head. Surprisingly enough, mentioning his very annoying Operations Officer and remembering that the guy could be dead caused a very strong feeling of sadness in all three officers.  
"Jeffery, tell us about…ourselves…" Stafford said.  
"Right," Jeffery pulled out a sheet of paper, "Yer Creth Sendel. Ye work at the HG24 News Office,"  
"Anchor?" Stafford asked hopefully, "Reporter? Television Network Executive?"  
"Janitor,"  
"F**k,"  
"Yer 32," Jeffery said, "Just moved from Trenetur with your wife and crentor,"  
"Crentor?" Yanick asked. The Universal Translator didn't have a translation.  
"Uh," Jeffery said, "Roughly translated, it means 'The other guy married to my wife.'."  
"You know," Stafford said, annoyed, "My tolerance for alternative lifestyles only reaches so far. I think I preferred being a bachelor!" He had mixed himself a drink from the mini-bar, after scanning to be sure Delori intoxicants wouldn't kill him. Not that he'd mind all that much at the moment.  
"You're still a bachelor," Yanick said, "Don't you dare think I'm going to be performing any 'wifely duties' here!"  
"Yer 'Geleksy Bottoks'," Jeffery said to Yanick as Stafford proceeded to blow his drink out through his nose, "Ye work as an administrative assistant for the same news service as Chris,"  
"A secretary and a janitor?" Stafford said, wiping his face and coughing, "Couldn't you have found something a bit more…challenging? And c'mon… 'Galaxy Buttocks'? Why don't you just name her 'Sovereign-class Ass'?"  
Stafford ducked as Yanick swatted at the back of this head.  
"We're here to keep an eye open for survivors and wait for rescue," Jeffery said, annoyed, "Not climb the corporate ladder!"  
"Corporate staircase," Yanick said.  
"Hmmm?"  
"Well, they're aliens," Yanick reminded them, "Maybe it's a corporate staircase. Or a corporate elevator. Oh! Or a corporate escalator! Going the wrong direction so you have to work really hard to get to the top!"  
"And who are you, Simon?" Stafford asked tiredly.  
"'Microl Zetik'," Jeffery said, "Ah work as a design technician at Kreniton Tech. Just started, of course, and eager to learn the trade,"  
"So you can get access to whatever passes for advanced technology in this hellhole, right?" Stafford asked.  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded, "Y'know, that and Ah can't resist playin' with gadgets,"

The next two days were a blur of activity. After spending a day exploring the neighborhood, looking for signs of Stalart and waiting for all of Jeffery's high-tech wizardry to do it's work, all three officers went through their respective 'new employee' training. None of the Delori they encountered seemed to question them or show the least bit of suspicion. Clearly, the Delori's reliance on electronic record-keeping was working to the castaway's advantage. Everybody believed that Stafford and Yanick, or 'Sendel and Bottoks' were transfers from an affiliate station in another city  
"OK," Stafford said to Yanick, "I'm supposed to start cleaning floors on the 4th floor. I want you to start checking old news articles for any mention of anything strange happening the night we crashed as well as anything you can find that might relate to Stalart. A talking baby-thing has to get some attention. They have some kind of unified data network, sort of like the old Internet. Use it,"  
"Gotcha!" Yanick said, "I'll look for crashed networks and old Internews articles,"  
Stafford paled.  
"Silly!" Yanick gave him a playful smack, "I'm not THAT blond!"  
Shaking his head, Stafford retreated to the mop closet.

He'd barely finished mopping the men's lavatory when his comm-badge gave a soft beep. He almost didn't notice, concentrating as he was on a particularly stubborn stain when it went off.  
He checked to be sure he was alone, then pulled it out of his pocket.  
"Yeah?"  
"Chris!, er, Creth," Yanick's voice came, "I need you to come up to the 6th floor. I've found something!"  
Stafford quickly finished up and left his mop bucket in a nearby closet. He rushed up the stairs, finding Yanick next to a small room off the main administration offices. Her desk had become somewhat of a disaster in fairly short order, but Stafford had a feeling that with her looks, Yanick could probably spend the day doodling and not lose her job.  
Yanick was chatting it up with a pair of her new co-workers.  
"Oh," she giggled, "I don't know anything about Pirdera or Jukacha. But I got these shoes at Hurigle's Footsie Palace…silly name, huh?"  
"What's up?" he asked, trying to look casual for the benefit of anybody looking in the window between the room and the hallway.  
"Oh!" She blushed, "Uh, we gotta, um, check something," she grinned at her co-workers as she pulled Stafford into the room.  
The man she'd been talking to shook his head as he started to walk away.  
"Must be his crentor's week with her," he said, "And he wants a little action before she goes home. Disgusting,"  
"Like you've never wanted to play when it's not your turn," his female companion huffed, "Honestly, you men think its fine when you share two women, but try to share a woman between two men and it's just nothing but drama! Well, women have needs too!"  
"Slut," the man muttered.

"What's so important?" Stafford asked.  
"This thing," Yanick said, indicating a piece of Delori technology. It was about twice the size of Fifebee's holo-relay and stood in one corner of the room. A complicated control panel was suspended on a flexible arm, and numerous access panels dotted the front. Thick cables attached it to the wall, presumably data transfer and power cables.  
"What is it?" Stafford asked.  
"I don't know," Yanick hissed, "I don't think it's a computer core-"  
"It's not," Stafford cut in, "They keep that in the basement,"  
"I scanned it with my tri…" Yanick's eyes darted around, "My tri…tri…you know. And there's some strange stuff in there. But I don't have a clue what it does!"  
"Could it be part of what's causing the temporal interference?" Stafford asked, "Or maybe some kind of advanced alien technology the Delori got their hands on?"  
"I don't know," Yanick said, "I'm a pilot, not a…a…theoretical design physicist!"  
Stafford examined the control panel.  
"Well I can't make heads or tails out of this," he said, shaking his head.  
"Excuse me?"  
They spun around, looking like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.  
"Er, yes?" Yanick said.  
"Are you two done with the photocopier? I need to copy something," she held up a sheet of paper.  
"Uh, sure," Stafford said, stepping away from the device, "Uh, go ahead."  
They watched, fascinated as the woman inserted the sheet of paper into one end of the device, tapped a few buttons, waited while the device clicked and whirred, then withdrew an exact duplicate from an output tray.  
"Thanks," she said, walking out the door.  
Stafford and Yanick stared at each other for several moments.  
"Let us never speak of this," Stafford said firmly, "to ANYONE!"

Week Two:

"OK," Stafford said, "Let's go over what we know,"  
He was sitting cross-legged on the single, large bed in their hotel room, his back against the headboard. Jeffery was sitting in a chair nearby and Yanick was sprawled out on the bed, her blond hair spreading out around her head. Stafford was trying very hard not to notice that the outline of her breasts was now very visible from where he sat, and quickly shifted his position.  
"The Delori are definitely equivalent to early 21st Century Earth," Jeffery said, "Ah could make a fortune in Federation space selling stuff from this place in antique stores! LCD televisions, magnetic storage drives, florescent lighting. Oh, and they had these things called 'photocopiers' and 'fax machines' that could-"  
"Thanks, Simon," Stafford cut him off, trying not to glare, "Anything useful?"  
"To us?" Jeffery shrugged, "Maybe. Ah think our best bet is to take control of a microwave transceiver array and try to reprogram it to send out a signal,"  
"Good, good," Stafford was feeling better about their chances already," Yanick, what about Stalart? Or any wreckage from the ship?"  
"Um," Yanick rolled over on the bed and reached for the briefcase she'd left on the floor. Stafford and Jeffery stared for a moment at her backside as she rummaged around, gulped, exchanged glances, then pointedly looked away.  
"Here we go!" she said, pulling out page after page of computer printout, "I got some stuff, but I'm not sure what all it means. Jeffery gave me a hacker thingy that broke into their secure information network, so a lot of this stuff isn't known to the 'normal' people. Man, if I can hack their network these guys have SERIOUS security issues," Yanick tried to pull her hair back into place, "OH, there's a mention of a meteor the night we crashed. Do you think-"  
"Where?" Stafford and Jeffery cried together, reaching for the sheets and rummaging through them. They both came up with different sheets of paper.  
"'Although some residents claim it was an alien spacecraft'," Stafford read aloud, "'Astronomers from the Azdeka Central Observatory confirm that the object that crashed into the Central Sea last week was in fact a perfectly ordinary chuck of space debris, remarkably only in it's size'…" Stafford trailed off. "My ship," he said softly, "Crashed…in the ocean…"  
"Maybe not," Jeffery said, frowning as he read his sheet.  
"Huh?"  
"Another meteor crashed just outside the city, according to this," Jeffery said, "And judging from the size of it, it wasn't our lifeboat!"  
"Stalart's ship?" Stafford asked.  
"Maybe," Jeffery said, "Or…or a piece of Silverado,"  
"Either way we need to check that out," Stafford said, "Does that say where?"  
"Yeah," Jeffery frowned, "Y'know, Chris, something's fishy about this."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean," Jeffery said, "The Delori have decent telescopes. And Ah can bet their military has some pretty nifty radar-tracking technology. If they're sayin' in here that it's NOT an alien spacecraft, Ah think it's cuz they know for damned sure that it is!"  
"Uh-oh," Yanick said.  
"Which means it'll be all but impossible to get near it!" Jeffery finished.  
"You'll figure something out," Stafford said, thinking hard. "OK," he finally said, "We have two priorities: Number one, we need to find out if that's part of our ship, or Stalart's near the city. Number two, we need to see what, if any, footage the Delori have of the other crash, the one in or near the ocean. But before we do that, what do we know about Stalart?"  
They started pouring over the printouts Yanick had brought back.  
"There's been a huge upswing in electronic bank break-ins over the past week," Stafford said, frowning, "With money being stolen from several accounts," He looked at Jeffery.  
"Don't look at me!" Jeffery said, "Ah just faked a really large deposit into ours. Ah know we needed money, but Ah didn't wanna rob anybody to get it…"  
"So we can assume Stalart is just as good at hacking their computers as we are," Stafford said.  
"It looks like some criminal group has been really nasty the past week," Yanick said, "Lookit this…the past week's shown a big upswing in criminal activity by the…the Zlarnsky Crew,"  
"Hey, I saw a police report on them in here somewhere," Stafford said, rummaging, "Here we go. Hmm…looks like the found the leader dead in an alley somewhere about a day after we crashed. Cause of death…huh. Unknow. Some kind of energy discharge,"  
"Those thugs Stalart had with him at the data center sure weren't kiddies," Jeffery commented.  
"And the Zlarnsky Crew has ties to an extremist faction in the country's politics," Stafford through the paper down, "I really don't like where this is going,"  
"What about Sylvia?" Yanick asked.  
"Now that we have an idea on where Stalart is and who he's working with," Stafford said, "We can focus on that. If we can find her, we have to!"  
"Y'know," Jeffery pulled out his tricorder, "Maybe I can save us some time," he fiddled with his tricorder and comm-badge. He'd been able to compensate for the temporal interference enough for the trio to stay in contact with each other, but not enough to pierce the temporal interference around the planet. Now he tied the comm-badge into the tricorder, trying to pick up any stray signals.  
BEEP! BE-DEEP-BEEP! BEEPIDY-BEEP-BEEP!  
"Gotcha!" Jeffery grinned, as lines of data started scrolling up the tricorder display.  
"What is it?" Stafford asked.  
"Silverado's emergency beacon," he said, "So at least part of the subspace transceiver survived, even if the rest of the ship broke apart,"  
"Which one is it?" Stafford asked eagerly.  
Jeffery tapped away, then his face fell.  
"Sorry Chris," he said, "The signal's coming from the Central Sea,"  
Stafford's mouth tightened.  
"That's it then," he said, "Jeffery, tomorrow you're going to go to the Azdeka Observatory to get any images or footage they took of either crash. Yanick and I are going out to Stalart's ship. I want to know who's there, if anybody's using it and whether there's any clue there as to where Stalart is. Any questions?"  
Yanick raised her hand.  
"Yes?" Stafford asked, all business.  
"Can we get ice cream on the way?"

After another uncomfortable night (both Jeffery and Stafford were sleeping on the floor while Yanick took the jumbo bed) the three of them set off.  
It was a non-working day, luckily, so most of the Delori were out enjoying various leisure activities like Bumper-Kites, Rollar-Walking and Barbeque Zin-Rat.  
Jeffery walked casually up to a side entrance to the Azdeka Observatry. Using his tricorder, he bypassed the primitive security swipe mechanism and slipped inside.  
He pulled on a cheap mask he'd purchased to obscure his face, just in case the small interference device he'd rigged failed to scramble the surveillance cameras. He spend several moments studying a map of the facility, complete with a helpful 'You Are Here' label, and moved off towards Central Storage.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Yanick asked.  
"Yes," Stafford said. 'No', he thought.  
The two of them had rented a vehicle and had driven in the direction of the second meteor. They'd barely left the city when they encountered a huge sign that said 'Detour'.  
"Can't say I'm surprised," Stafford said, "If their government does know there's an alien spacecraft out there, the last thing they want is people dropping by to sight-see,"  
So they'd left the rental car nearby and proceeded on foot through the dense forest. Using Stafford's tricorder, they managed to avoid the Delori security patrols.  
Stafford's tricorder suddenly beeped.  
"What's that?" Yanick asked.  
"Transporter trace," Stafford said, "Short range. Somebody just beamed into the city,"  
"So Stalart's ship's in one piece?"  
"The transporters are," Stafford frowned, "That's odd. There's a large concentration of Delori around the ship, but they're keeping their distance,"  
"Why's that odd?"  
"An alien ship filled with new technology?" Stafford looked at her, "I'd think they'd bee all over it like ants on a candy bar," he looked thoughtful, "Something's keeping them away,"  
They moved closer and after several moments, peeking carefully over a fallen log, were without spying distance of the ship.  
It was Stalart's ship, all right. Heavily damaged, its two lower decks looked completely crushed. One warp nacelle had broken off during the crash, smashing against a tree 100 feet ahead of the ship, warp coils and plasma injectors scattered around for all to see.  
A crowd of Delori surrounded it, military judging by the tanks, mortar emplacements and uniformed men and women running to and fro.  
"Damn," Stafford said.  
As they watched, an officer held up a megaphone and pointed it at the ship.  
"Alien beings," he said, "Again, we come in peace. We request that you send a representative to establish communications between our people,"  
"No!" Stafford urged them quietly, "Don't be reasonable! Blow the little bastards to pieces and ask questions later!"  
"The evil people always get the good treatment, Yanick mused.  
"There's no way we're getting in that ship," Stafford said. He watched as another transporter signal lit up his tricorder, "And I bet the Delori don't know that they have a way out. They can keep their little blockade up for ages while Stalart and his people beam in and out,"  
"Can you trace the beam?" Yanick asked.  
Stafford blinked.  
"Um," he said, "Yes. Yes I can,"

They quickly backtracked to where they'd hidden their vehicle and drove as quickly as was possible towards to location that, according to Stafford's tricorder, Stalart's people were beaming to and from. Within 15 minutes, they'd picked up three more transporter signals, indicating that the traffic between the ship and the beam-down location was fairly heavy.  
Stafford spun the ovoid steering…oval around to the right, sending the vehicle into a skidding turn as his gaze flickered between the tricorder screen and the street ahead.  
"You know," Yanick gasped, hands tightly gripping her seat, "I really should have been the one driving-"  
The car bucked as Stafford went far too fast over a speed bump.  
"I really, really should have been the one driving," Yanick went on, "I am the pilot, after all. I drive a starship!"  
"Yeah," Stafford said, taking another turn just a little too fast, "You drove MY starship! And it's about time you saw things from my point of view!"

Jeffery dropped as quietly as he could to the floor as somebody walked down the corridor.  
He was in a workroom, not far from the Central Storage section of the Observatory. According to the information they had, combined with Jeffery's fledgling knowledge of Delori technology, they were sure that any images or video footage taken by the Observatory would have been digitized and stored in the central computer systems and backed up to secondary servers in a second site. Jeffery had been a little surprised to see an Observatory with such sophisticated systems and redundant security, but Stafford had pointed out that the unique (and bizarre) layer of temporal interference around the planet would probably make the Observatory doubly important, since radio waves would have a pretty hard time punching through.  
The trick, Jeffery mused to himself as he waited for whomever it was, probably a security guard, to pass would be removing any Prime Directive damaging files from the secondary site. He assumed there was a way to access them, since they had to be sent there in the first place. The trick would be to figure it out…

Once again having stashed their rental car nearby, Stafford and Yanick crept towards the building that appeared to be Stalart's base. The building was normal enough; just a big gray box surrounded by other similar gray boxes in the heart of an industrial section. If it weren't for the repeated (and continuing) transporter beams, the building would be totally insignificant.  
"I'm picking up over 2 dozen life-forms like Stalart's," Stafford said, "What did he call himself? Acadian?"  
"Arcanian, I think," Yanick said.  
"About 3 dozen Delori," Stafford shook his head, "Damn! Who knows what he's telling these poor people!"  
"We could try to find out," Yanick suggeseted, "I mean, he's only been here as long as we have been. How well established could he be?"  
"I shudder to think," Stafford sighed.

Jeffery tapped as quietly as he could on his tricorder, interfaced as it was with the Delori computer systems. He'd located enough images of boring stellar phenomena to keep an astronomer happy for about twenty years, but no alien spacecraft. None at all.  
Of course, he cursed, the Delori authorities didn't WANT anybody to know it was an alien spacecraft. But still, there was no way they would just erase images like that. Or was there? They were aliens after all, maybe they simply didn't care? After all, any alien race that made a habit of strapping themselves into Invert-O-Tron's once a day had to have some other pretty strange habits.  
No, Jeffery decided, no matter how strange and alien they were, they wouldn't give up images of a crashing starship.  
He dug deep into the network records, looking for large data transfers. Bingo! The day after they'd crashed there'd been a huge transfer of data to a network that wasn't even listed on the official listing. A high-security government agency, perhaps?  
Breaking in wouldn't be easy, Jeffery knew. But he had his 24th-Century engineering knowledge and a tricorder that was 4 centuries ahead of any computer the Delori could cook up.

Stafford and Yanick crept carefully into the loading bay of Stalart's claimed building. They'd stunned a pair of Delori guards, the two burly men clearly clueless when it came to fighting against energy weapons. Easing the door open, they quickly snuck down a corridor and up a flight of stairs. They found a control booth overlooking the large central storage area of the building. A crane and an electromagnet hung unused from the ceiling. Stafford dug into his pocket and pulled out one of the tiny eavesdropping bugs Jeffery had put together. Easing a window open on side of the booth, he tossed the tiny bug down to the floor, where several Arcanians and Delori were intermingling.  
"Are all aliens your size?" one Delori was asking.  
"How many stars are there in the sky?"  
"If I mate with one of your women, is it illegal?"  
"Wow," Stafford said, "They sure aren't picking up the cream of Delori society, are they?"  
There was a green shimmer in the center of the room and Lord Stalart arrived, along with several crates of supplies.  
"Just in time," Stafford said.  
"My new friends," Stalart said, his translation device broadcasting his voice to the point where Stafford and Yanick didn't even need to bug to hear it, "Today is a great day! Today you, the Delori, join a partnership with Archorethia and it is my great pleasure to welcome you into our…family,"  
"Those jerks," Yanick said.  
"And so," Stalart went on, "To help you cement that partnership, I've brought gifts: tools and weapons, so that you might overthrow your current, weak government and take your place in Archanian society!"  
"Ohhh…" Stafford groaned, "This is really not good!"

Jeffery tried for the 20th time to crack into the secret Delori network. He'd tried almost every trick in the book, and a film of sweat was breaking out on his brow.  
ACCESS GRANTED  
"Oh, good," Jeffery breathed, "Ah only had 2 tricks left,"  
It didn't take long for him to locate what he wanted. There they were, nearly 30 still images of Stalart's strangely shaped little ship, both distant shots of the ship as it started its dive into the atmosphere, tractor beam locked on Silverado and close up images with flames from atmospheric friction still flickering as the craft approached the ground. Looking close, Jeffery could see some kind of impact mark on the side. The images ended with the ship disappearing over the horizon.  
The next batch of images focused on Silverado.  
Jeffery's throat tightened as he watched as, image by image, the ship was pulled into the atmosphere by Stalart's ship. A cloud formation obscured the ship for a few moments, and by the time it emerged it was wreathed in flames as it passed through the dense lower atmosphere.  
Jeffery frowned as he examined the last image of the ship before it disappeared from view, dropping towards the Central Sea.  
"Whot in bloody blazes…" he muttered.

"He's raising an army," Stafford breathed, watching as Delori came forward to receive energy weapons, "He's trying to take control of their planet!"  
"Or at least this part of it," Yanick said. She gasped, "Chris, look!"  
Following her gaze, Stafford saw a small box sitting next to Stalart. It was clearly Federation design, with a dented speaker grill on one side and several connectors on another.  
"Sylvia!" Stafford said. He quickly dug out another bug and tossed it as far as he could. Luck was with him, and the bug landed not far from Stalart and Sylvia.  
"This really isn't a good idea, you know," Sylvia's voice came over the comm, sounding as motherly and nagging as always, "Overthrowing legitimately elected planetary governments never helped anybody,"  
"I'm not interested in helping," Stalart said angrily, "I'm interested in destroying your friends, discovering the secret of the planet and escaping! Oh, after which I of course plan on killing you,"  
"Not that you haven't tried," Sylvia said, annoyed, "You haven't had much luck with that, have you?"  
"Just because Daddy, uh, I mean your engineer, reinforced your little box with whatever that superdense material is doesn't mean I won't figure something out!" Stalart snapped.  
"Good thinking Simon," Stafford sighed with relief, "He must have reinforced Sylvia's module with castrodinium or neutronium or something! Thank God she's OK!"  
He started moving towards the door.  
"Where are you going?" Yanick asked.  
"I'm getting our computer back!" he said, "Get the car ready to go!"

Stafford crept down a flight of stairs, eyes on his tricorder as he watched for life signs. Judging the corridor ahead of him to be clear, he walked quickly to what he figured was the least-used entrance to the main room. 5 minutes wasn't really long enough to judge traffic patterns, but hey, he had to start somewhere.  
What he needed was a distraction. Damn! Why had he sent Yanick to get the car? That woman could distract a Klingon from honorable death!  
Maybe it was time to get really, really clever…

Stalart was watching as his men unloaded a crate of weapons, the Delori of course doing most of the work as they could live much heavier weights than the tiny Arcanians who had rescued him from Silverado. His efforts to de-stabilize the government of this country were progressing, but he knew he had to move fast. No doubt the Federation would be eager to come in and enforce their 'Prime Directive' law, and if he wanted to get his hands on the temporal technology of Deloria he needed resources! He also needed to get his ship fixed, or he'd be trapped on the planet. Nobody from his world knew he and his new crew were stranded there. Fortunately, any planet had its political extremists and it's organized crime, and there was nothing like the promise of power and advanced technology to bring the two together.  
His head spun around as the sound of phaser fire rang out from the doorway nearest his position. As he watched, a dark shape clung to the back of a large cart, using it as a shield as he or she fired at Stalart's shocked allies, moving closer to Stalart himself. Many of the phaser blasts missed (this person wasn't the best marksman), but several hit home, stunning some of the Delori henchmen. There was muffled cursing from behind the cart, then wide beam phaser shots rang out, stunning almost a dozen of the crooks.  
Switching his phaser back to narrow beam, he aimed it right at Stalart.  
"NOBODY MOVE!" Stafford shouted, "ONE TWITCH AND I BLOW THIS BRAT'S HEAD OFF!"

Jeffery rushed up to the warehouse, panting as the taxi he'd ridden pulled away. Tracking Yanick's comm-badge, he found her sitting in a vehicle just up the street. He collapsed in the driver seat.  
"What are ye doin' all the way out here instead of out at the crash site?" he wheezed, "Do ye know how much the bleedin' cab fare costs?"  
"Chris has some plan to get Sylvia back," Yanick said.  
"Sylvia?" Jeffery straightened up, "Ye found her?"  
"Oh yeah," Yanick said, "And Stalart too! Chris wanted me to get the car ready for a quick escape.  
"Then don't ye think," Jeffery said, "That ye should be parked a little closer to the exit?" He would have laughed if his friend's life wasn't in danger.  
"Oh!" Yanick smacked herself on the forehead, "D'UH!"  
She floored the gas then spun the wheel, pulling the car into a neat 180 and leaving black tire marks on the pavement before darting into the warehouse lot and breaking hard. The car stopped, perfectly parked near the side door.  
Jeffery clutched the door handle as he glared at her.  
"No wonder the blasted impulse reactors are always needin' repair!" he roared, "Yer a maniac!"  
"I prefer 'performance driver'," Yanick said, "And it's not like I blew up the ship or anything,"  
"Yeah," Jeffery sighed, "Right,"

"If you kill me," Stalart said, "I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine!"  
Stafford blinked.  
"Really?'  
Stalart sighed.  
"No, not really," he said, crossing his tiny arms, "But see what happens when you subject your young to countless hours of television? I can't get the Martha Stewart or Emperor Palpatine out of my head to save my life! Or was it Emperor Martha?"  
"Hey Chris!" Sylvia said from her spot on the table, "I'm so glad you survived,"  
"Me too," Stafford said, still holding the phaser on Stalart as he moved closer to the table, "I mean, glad you survived. And that I did, I suppose,"  
"I will destroy you, you know," Stalart said, almost conversationally, "Again, I mean,"  
"You never destroyed us!" Stafford shot back, "It was a good try, but we survived!"  
"Some of you, maybe," Stalart said, "We'll see how many actually survive on this planet. You did examine your sensor readings before I blew up your ship, right?"  
"Uh, sure," Stafford said, his tone unconvincing.  
Stalart grinned like the cat about to eat the tweety bird.  
"Oh," he said maniacally, "It's just TOO perfect! But I'm not going to tell you. I much prefer to leave you to muddle about until you eventual learn how the rest of your crew comes to be horribly killed-"  
"SHUT UP!" Stafford snapped, firing a phaser beam into a crate behind the tiny would-be Overlord.  
Stalart's grin turned darker.  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, "Were you hoping that more of them had lived? Maybe hoping to get the old gang back together and go back to fumbling around the nether-regions of the galaxy? Sorry, old chap!"  
"Chris, he's stalling!" Sylvia cried, "Just get us out of here!"  
"You're lying," Stafford said, fighting to stay calm.  
"I have to need to lie," Stalart shot back, "The truth is so much more fun. Is that maybe a tear in your eye, hmmmm? I thought big boys didn't cry-"  
Stalart's rant was cut short as Stafford shot him. He grabbed Sylvia's module and ran for the door, ducking as bullets from the Delori henchmen whizzed through the air. With Stalart down, they'd decided they'd had enough waiting.  
"Chris, did you kill him?" Sylvia cried.  
"No," Stafford gasped, "Stun. Starfleet way and all that bull…HOLY SHIT!"  
He'd just come around the corner to the exit, finding no less than 20 Arcanians and Delori waiting. He tried to duck back, but two bullets caught him in the arm in which he held Sylvia's module. He dropped her to the ground as he spun around, the pain shooting through his arm was enough to make him want to scream.  
"RUN CHRIS!" Sylvia screamed, her vocal volume at maximum, "THEY CAN'T HURT ME! GET OUT OF HERE!"  
Gasping, hearing the sound of Delori footsteps, Stafford obeyed.

He'd barely made it to another exit, stumbling as blood continued to pour from his arm. He tapped his comm-badge and summoned Yanick, who spun the car around, waiting just long enough for him to fall into the back seet.  
Jeffery immediately started cursing.  
"The med-kit's at the hotel!" he cursed, "And that blood is going to TOTALLY f**k up our damage deposit on the car!"  
Stafford had passed out and didn't respond.

Several hours later, arm patched and car returned (damage deposit gone) they were packing up their temporary home.  
"That's the end of it," Stafford said, "We can't stay here. Three of us against Stalart's entire crew? And the Delori? No, I'm getting us gone before anybody else gets hurt."  
"What about Sylvia?" Jeffery asked.  
"I think she's safe for now," Stafford said, "Something about a reinforced casing…"  
"Neutronium reinforced casing," Jeffery nodded, "Aye. But Ah bet Stalart will get around it sooner or later,"  
"Maybe," Stafford said, "But we'll come back for her. Once we have help. We've gotta find more survivors!"  
"If anybody's there," Yanick said quietly.  
Stafford had told them about Stalart's claims. He really wanted to believe that it was nothing but an attempt to put him off guard, but something about the way Stalart had put it…  
"'Comes to be killed'," he repeated, "Not 'came to be killed',"  
"Not time travel…" Jeffery groaned.  
"No, no no!" Stafford said, "I think he was telling me that something about this place is going to kill them…but that they're not dead yet. We have to get to them first!"  
"We have a place to start," Jeffery said.  
"You've figured out where the Silverado crash site is?" Stafford asked him.  
"Better," Jeffery pulled out a sheet of paper, "Ah found out that a research submersible was very suddenly pulled off its regular schedule and diverted to the Central Sea."  
"So?" Yanick asked.  
"So," Stafford perked up, comprehension dawning, "Science and research ships are usually booked months or years in advance! At least in the Federation…"  
"Here too," Jeffery confirmed, "It occurred to me, if Ah was in an Observatory, the data network would probably have easy access to the scientific networks,"  
"Great thinking buddy!" Stafford laughed, "That's our plan then. You can bet if anybody else knows where the wreck is, that's where they're going!"  
"Aye," Jeffery beamed. Stafford hadn't called him 'buddy' since before the Operation Salvage incident, "Oh, and there's something else ye should see…"  
He pulled out several large printed images.  
"Images of ship, taken right before it hit the ocean," he said by way of explanation.  
Stafford and Yanick stared at the first picture for several seconds.  
"Where's the rest of it?" Yanick asked, scratching her head.

TO BE CONTINUED…

So. Most of the crew has made it so far. But what the heck is going on? Sorry, but if you're expecting a quick fix, you're out of luck. Still, tune in in two weeks for the next installment of Star Traks: Silverado – 'Shattered'!


	9. Hazardous Pay

Star Traks: Silverado

3.9 "Hazardous Pay"

Departure:

"Ah gotta get to the bridge!" Lt. Cmdr. Simon Jeffery was shouting, "Stern, Ah need you boys to keep things going down here! See if you can restart the computer, or we're snarzed!"  
And with that, he ran at top speed into the corridor and into the turbolift.  
"But we're not engineers!" Stern called back, futilely. Indeed, the Hazardous Team was just helping out, since the ship was seriously understaffed at the moment.  
The ship shook again, as it had only seconds before when, for an unknown reason, systems started clicking on an off at random. And not just the lights, like in an ordinary systems malfunction either…everything was going absolutely bonkers. Thrusters were kicking in, altering the ships course, the sliding pocket doors were opening and closing randomly, almost like the micro-AIs that controlled them were being tickled profusely. The only system that didn't seem to be affected was the warp core itself, even though the plasma injectors in both nacelles were mis-firing like crazy.  
"Why does the Chief Engineer leave just when everything goes nuts?" Ensign Simmons moaned from the Master Systems display, which was flickering on and off, more and more red icons indicating failures in various systems.  
"He probably knows something important we don't," Rengs shot back, tapping at the Impulse Control Systems panel, "I can't get control over the impulse engines, the RCS thrusters or navigation!" he reported.  
"Weapons and shields are…well," Marsden swallowed as he played another console like a piano, "I'm not sure what they're doing, these status reports keep changing! But I think somebody has a tractor beam on us!"  
"Sylvia!" Stern shouted, summoning the omni-present computer, "What's going on? We could use a hand here!"  
No response.  
"Computer!" Stern shouted again, "Initiate full system restart! Authorization Stern India Bangok Umbrella!"  
"Init…iaaaaaaaat…t-t-t-t" the computer's reply was lost in a squeal of electronic tones.  
"Something's gone," Stern said, "And whatever it is, I think it was important!"  
"Sylvia's gone?" Marsden gulped, "That's gotta be it!"  
"All hands," the all-call came suddenly to life, Stafford sounding like he was almost on the edge of tears as he gave the commands, "Abandon ship! Repeat, all hands abandon ship!"  
The entirety of the Hazardous Team exchanged glances; Stern, Simmons, Rengs, Marsden, Kreklor and Dar'ugal all looking at each other and then to Stern, a questioning look on their faces.  
"You heard the Captain," Stern said, "C'mon, the closest lifeboats are aft, on the fantail,"  
Seeing hesitation in his team, Stern's expression darkened.  
"Everybody! MOVE!"

They raced through the corridors of Deck 21 towards the aft end of the secondary hull then up a Jefferies tube, their goal being the large, flat surface at the aft of the secondary hull formed by the two L-shaped nacelle pylons. Finally, they burst into the lifeboat launch area. Stern waited as Rengs, Simmons and Kreklor jumped into one lifeboat before joining Marsden and Dar'ugal in another. They quickly strapped in, hit the 'Launch' control and braced themselves as one set of explosive bolts flung the lifeboat hatch open before a second sent the lifeboat spinning into space.  
"Holy shit…" Stern breathed.  
Whatever he'd been expecting, the sight before him wasn't it. An alien spacecraft had a tractor beam locked solidly on Silverado's saucer, pulling the ship into the atmosphere of a large green and blue planet covered by a bizarre, shifting, iridescent sheen. Several lifeboats were already gliding away from the ship and towards the planet. Even as he watched more broke away from the lower edge of the saucer. The engineering hull had been largely deserted, and no other pods seemed to be leaving it, affording only the Hazardous Team with a clear view of events as they unfolded.  
Catching a glimpse of the upper superstructure, Stern could see hatches blasting open as command-level escape pods prepared to launch. But before they could, a series of small explosions lit up the lower edge of the saucer section, right where it connected to the secondary hull.  
"Oh my God!" Marsden cried, "The emergency explosive release for saucer separation!"  
Silverado's massive, discus shaped saucer jumped, the aft end tilting up as it was launched free of the stardrive section just as the last escape pods were launching. The sudden movement of the saucer pulled the alien ship off course, nearly crushing some of the escaping lifeboats between the saucer and the alien ship. One pod was caught in the alien ship's turbulence, colliding with another pod. The pods spun free and tumbled towards the planet; the first one straightening out and moving into a landing trajectory, the other spinning out of control. Both were quickly out of sight. The alien ship, caught off guard by the sudden saucer separation and clearly damaged by the sudden jolt, was unable to shut down its tractor beam in time. As the Hazardous Team watched, the saucer and the alien ship nose-dived into the planets atmosphere, flames from atmospheric friction licking the hulls. The alien ship, finally managing to free itself, started moving away from the saucer but was unable to break out of its crash course. Both vessels vanished from Stern's view. The last he saw of Silverado, the saucer section was on a nose-dive trajectory straight for a moderately-sized ocean.  
"We're going down!" Marsden said, "We're too far into the gravity well to break free in this tin can!"  
"Can you bring us down near the saucer?" Stern asked.  
Dar'ugal shook his head.  
"I can't get a fix on it," Marsden said, "Something's interfering with our sensors,"  
"Best guess!" Stern snapped, "See if you can't get Simmons and Rengs to follow us!"  
"You got it,"  
The lifeboat fell towards Deloria.

Some distance behind them, Silveradeo's stardrive section continued to spin, a few thrusters still firing at random. After a moment, a phaser beam flashed into existence, fading just as quickly.  
Inside, the computer softly repeated the same response over and over again, though nobody was there yet to hear it.  
"Init…init…init…"

Week One:

"Well, this sucks," Simmons said flatly, observing the view outside the small window of the escape pod in which he had landed with Rengs and Kreklor.  
"It does look a bit, um, dry out there," Rengs observered.  
"It looks pleasant," Kreklor said, "The dry air, the hard, gritty sand. I have not had a decent sand scrub in a long time,"  
Simmons looked at him.  
"You Klingons have some pretty messed up ideas, you know that?"  
"Just because you cannot understand honor-"  
"Who said anything about honor?" Simmons cut him off, "I was talking about the pain fixation and the weird, fighting sex you people do,"  
"It is sex as it is meant to be!" Kreklor shot back, "That foolish thing you humans do…with the affection and the…the…" he looked like he was trying to swallow a particularly feisty piece of gagh, "ugh…tenderness…"  
"So, should we open the door or what?" Rengs asked, eager to change the topic before they decided to end the argument by collectively making fun of Bajoran mating habits, "We can't just sit in the pod and wait to be rescued,"  
"But the pod has air conditioning!" Simmons objected, "and besides, isn't that what escape pods are for?"  
"No," Kreklor snapped, "they are for," he rolled his eyes, "escaping! Perfect for cowardly humans do not wish to enjoy a proper death!"  
"I didn't see you complaining that much when Stern told us to abandon ship," Simmons said, "Besides, if honorable death is such a great, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, shouldn't I save myself for it?"  
"The way you saved your virginity?"  
"Maybe we should get going," Reng said, opening the storage compartments and pulling out survival gear, "Before I'm tempted to hurt both of you,"

"This doesn't look so bad," Marsden said, looking out his viewport, "A bit dry maybe, but there are some fields, and some trees, and even a river,"  
"Sounds like you have the better view," Stern said glumly, looking out the opposite window, "All I see out my window is desert,"  
"We must be near an agricultural band," Marsden said, "I remember reading about how some places are very lush and fertile along a river or sea, but turn quickly to desert the further you go,"  
"Like Egypt?"  
"Something like that,"  
Dar'ugal sighed loudly.  
"What's wrong, big guy?" Stern asked. Not that Dar'ugal would be telling him anything. The Barudan, like the rest of his species, was mute.  
"No win situation for Darg here," Marsden said, "He's either going to get sand in his fur, or he's going to get wet. He's not big on either one,"  
"Well, I'm not big on this whole situation," Stern said, "But I suppose we better get started on something. Y'know, survival and all that. And we better blow the pod, looks like this place is inhabited,"  
He looked oddly expectant for a moment.  
"What?" Marsden asked.  
"Oh," Stern's expression turned downcast, "I guess I was waiting for Simmons to make a smart-ass remark to that,"  
"We'll find them soon, sir," Marsden assured him.  
"Do we have to?" Stern whined.

They quickly grabbed what supplies they could, including the ever-useful tricorders, and moved to a safe distance before Stern hit the self-destruct on the pod.  
"Well," Marsden said, "As long as we don't have to escape from any more exploding starships, we should be OK,"  
"Yeah," Stern nodded.  
Dar'ugal made a negative gesture.  
"Y'know, he's right," Stern said thoughtfully, "I never felt a shockwave from the warp core exploding. Did you?"  
"No," Marsden said, "But we did see the saucer going down in flames. Well, not in flames, but it crashed all right. Probably into a million pieces,"  
"Not a pleasant thought," Stern said, "Either way, I think the ship's had it. We're going to have to stick it out until we're rescued,"

A short distance away, deeper in the desert, a similar conversation was taking place.  
"Wait for rescue? On this glorious wasteland?" Kreklor was saying, "Wonderful. I am ready for a vacation!" he promptly started pulling off his uniform top.  
"Uh, what are you doing?" Simmons asked as Kreklor's pants joined his top on the ground.  
"Getting ready to hunt, kill and suntan," Kreklor stated, "Unless you wish to eat only emergency rations for the duration!"  
"We're in a DESERT!" Simmons snapped, "Nothing lives here! And…and…HA-HA-HA-HA!"  
"What?" Kreklor demanded. He looked back and forth between Simmons and Rengs.  
Rengs, stifling a chuckle, pointed down at Kreklor's midsection, "Nice undies,"  
Kreklor grabbed his uniform pants, covering up his 'Ambassador Worf' boxer briefs, complete with strategically-placed bat-leth on the front, an image of Ambassador Worf on the left buttock and a Galaxy-class starship on the right.  
"They are a combination of Klingon honour and Starfleet pride!" Kreklor growled defensively, "You will stop laughing this instant!"  
"The whole time we were escaping from the ship you were sitting on the Ambassador's face!" Simmons laughed hysterically.  
"AARRRGGGHHHHH!"

"You might be interested to know," Marsden was saying as he tapped at his tricorder, "I found the rest of the team. They're about 5 kilometers into the desert,"  
"Oh, good," Stern said, relieved, "Then we don't have to go running to rescue them,"  
At that exact moment, a band of humanoid creatures became visible in the distance, coming up a path that led between the fields and towards to Stern and the others.  
"But they might have to come rescue us," Marsden said nervously.  
"Um," Stern bit his lip, "We don't know that they're hostile. They might just be coming to greet us,"  
Dar'ugal had pulled out a set of micro-binoculars and was holding them to his face (which, if you've forgotten, is located in the center of his chest). He tapped Marsden on the shoulder and handed him the micro-binoculars.  
"Uh-oh," Marsden murmered.  
"What?" Stern asked.  
"This could be bad,"  
"What?"  
"I really don't like the looks of this,"  
"For the love of-" Stern snatched the binoculars from Marsden and held them to his face.  
"Dar'ugal, are you shedding again?" he asked, quickly pulling them away and rubbing his eyes, "My allergies just flared up,"  
"LOOK!" Marsden said, pushing the binoculars back up to Stern's face.  
"Oh,"  
The group of 12 or so beings coming towards them was definitely humanoid. And primitive. They walked in two ranks, each male being wearing a bronze…skirt of some kind. Armor for their sensitive parts? They were shirtless, but wore pectoral necklaces of hammered brass. Their arms and legs were mostly bare, with leather sandals laced right up to the knee and heavy metal armbands covering some of the skin, which had a bluish cast. (Stern couldn't know it, but Delori turned blue as they tanned) Their hair was long and such a deep shade of blue it looked almost like the night sky.  
They also had swords.  
"They look…almost Egyptian," Stern said.  
"Uh-huh," Marsden said.  
"Which means they're probably very primitive,"  
"Actually," Marsden perked up, "the Egyptians were a highly advanced culture, with a complex written language and a strong understanding of-"  
Stern bonked him on the head with the binoculars.  
"I mean," he said, "that they're probably going to have seen the pod come crashing down and they probably saw the explosion and I don't think they're going to take very kindly to us for either!"  
"Ohhh…." Marsden looked worried, "Should we hide?"  
Dar'ugal shook his head no then mimed holding poker cards to his chest.  
"Right," Stern nodded, "That would immediately make it look like we're hiding something. Which we would be."  
"So, we meet them?"  
"Uh, I guess," Stern said, "But keep your phaser handy,"

"No self-respecting Klingon would sit on the face of another!" Kreklor was snapping, "It is dishonourable! And the image on my undergarments is just that, an image!"  
"I dunno," Simmons said, "When Steven was telling me about his vacation to that Klingon resort, Wasaga-Kling, he made it sound like there wasn't much those Klingons wouldn't do,"  
"I said self-respecting!"  
"If I didn't know any better," Simmons went on, "I'd almost say that you could go for a vacation there,"  
"DIE, VERMIN!" Kreklor snapped, jumping at Simmons and wrestling him to the ground.  
"See!" Simmons laughed as he was slammed into the sand, "He's taking his cloths off and wrestling with me! Just like-"  
"Simmons, give it a rest," Rengs said, annoyed, "Ensign Beyosh's quarters are just down the corridor from mine AND she's a screamer," Ensign Beyosh was Kreklor's human girlfriend. Rengs had pulled out his tricorder and was tapping away.  
"Hmm," he said, scratching the Bajoran ridges on his nose which, unfortunately, had a tendency to catch sweat from his forehead and itch, "Looks like the others aren't far. But they've got a bunch of alien life signs closing in on them. I think. I can barely tell, I'm still compensating for this weird interference,"  
He tapped his comm-badge.  
"Rengs to Stern,"  
No answer. Simmons and Kreklor climbed to their feet and tried theirs as well, to no effect.  
"Must be the same interference that was jamming the pod sensors and messing up my tricorder," Rengs said, "You know, I bet Fifebee and the senior staff figured out what it was, but just didn't bother to tell the rest of us,"  
"Well, the ship was crashing," Simmons said, "they were probably busy,"  
"And human officers tend to get far more attached to their vessels than they should," Kreklor said, "I am sure at this moment Stafford is wishing for his teddy bear,"  
"Uh-huh," Rengs held back a grin. If Kreklor was making comments like that about his superiors then clearly the honour-minded Klingon wasn't all that thrilled with Silverado's destruction either. He had to admit that he, Rengs, wasn't really that upset; his wife and child were safe back at the starbase. As long as they were OK, he could deal with the crash of what was, in the end, just a really big piece of technology.  
"Can you get through the interference?" Simmons asked.  
"Maybe if I had several hours to sit down and concentrate," Rengs said, "But in the middle of the desert? I doubt it. Let's find the others,"

"Hi, I'm David Stern," Stern said, giving the commander of the Delori group what he hoped was a friendly smile, conscious of just how muscular the man was. He definitely didn't want a fight.  
"Neg sutori exponut," the man breathed. He walked right past Stern and Marsden and approached Dar'ugal, dropping to his knees and lowering his head to the ground as the rest of the Delori stared whispering to each other.  
"Ohhh shit, Stern said.  
"Oh yeah!" Marsden realized, "He's an alien! They've probably never seen anything like him,"  
"Thanks, Ensign Obvious," Stern groaned. What a mess! They'd been so careful about destroying the pod to protect the Prime Directive, but he'd totally forgotten that he was traveling with a 7-foot tall, red-furred, headless alien. What if they thought he was a demon, a monster, a vile thing to be destroyed or sacrificed in some hellish ceremony?  
Suddenly, the Universal Translator, having had ample time to sample the alien language, kicked in.  
"-great being, who came to us from the sky, we stand ready to do your bidding," the Delori leader was saying, "We offer our humble services,"  
It was hard to tell who looked more shocked, Stern or Dar'ugal.

"We've got a group of aliens coming towards us now," Rengs frowned, "And fast, too. Either that or this fuzzy interference patter just happens to look like-"  
"How fast?" Kreklor asked, jumping into a fighting stance.  
"Not that fast," Rengs said, "I'd say they're riding some kind of domestic animals, judging by the speed and lack of technology readings,"  
In the distance they could see a series of dark dots coming over one of the sand dunes, a faint cloud of dust rising in their trails.  
"Do we stay, or do we go?" Simmons asked.  
"Go where?" Rengs asked, "We can't exactly hide out here, and they're going to know exactly where the pod is, if they're coming this way. They must have seen us land.  
"They're going to be here pretty soon," Simmons said nervously, "We have phasers right? We can shoot them…"  
"Finally, you say something proper," Kreklor said, slapping Simmons on the back.  
"We could shoot them," Rengs frowned, "But there's a few hundred thousand more life-signs along a river. A city or community of some kind. So we probably don't want to piss them off,"  
Both Kreklor and Simmons looked disappointed.  
"Bajoran wimp," Kreklor muttered.  
And then the Delori where on them, circling the group atop large, six-legged animals that looked like a bizarre cross between a camel and an elephant, with skinny legs, lumpy body's and long, slender trunks. They were slightly smaller than a camel though, a moved with swift, agile movements.  
"Ideco, smet phori canuta," on said, clearly the leader.  
"Uh, we come in peace," Rengs said, "Take us to your leader?"  
"EDO PUSHMATI!" one screamed, pointed at Kreklor. The others drew back their lips in distinctly unfriendly snarls, pulling their swords from their scabbard and pointing them at the Klingon.  
"Oopsie," Simmons said, just as the Universal Translator kicked in.  
"DEMON!" the Delori shouted.

"God dammit," Stern was muttering angrily to himself, "Of all the stupid, idiotic mistakes to make…Prime Directive violation…T'Parief would skin me alive!"  
"And maybe even eat the skin," Marsden agreed.  
"Greetings, oh holy master," the Delori was saying to Dar'ugal, his face still pressed to the sand, "I am Joujub, Captain in our Pharoh's personal guard,"  
"That adds to the whole 'Egyptian' thing," Marsden said.  
"Don't be stupid," Stern said, "They're not Egyptians. The translator's just picking a suitable word,"  
"Smart translator," Mardsen commented.  
At this point, all the Delori soldiers were still kneeling on the ground, some of them turning their eyes up to look expectantly at Dar'ugal.  
"Have you no orders for us, master?" Joujub asked humbly.  
"Oh boy," Stern grit his teeth. What to do? He could jump in and try to salvage the situation, find some clever way to explain why the great god Dar'ugal wasn't speaking. Of course, to do that would be to risk even greater damage to the primitive culture they'd found. On the other hand, he could try to explain who they really were, which would totally blast the already sinking Prime Directive out of the water. On the third hand…hmmm, that third had brought to mind the most lovely woman from Tau Ceti. She'd had so many arms. And hands. And other fascinating appendanges. But back on track: On the third hand they could cut and run, possibly ending up with Delori soldiers trying to skewer them like those little bacon-wrapped water chestnuts with the toothpicks in them that Steve always served at his cocktail parties.  
"The great Dar'ugal-" Stern started.  
"Him," Marsden pointed awkwardly at Dar'ugal with his thumb.  
"Has found that, er, mere mortals haven't the strength to bear the sound of his mighty voice," Stern finished, deciding that the best thing to do would be to live up the god charade until they could escape. At best, they'd be forgotten about in a few years. At worst, somebody would go found a religion based on their visit, which would then responsible for centuries of religious wars, persecution and oppression. But what were the odds of that happening?  
"We're here to, um, interpret for him," Marsden said, catching on.  
"Yeah, um," Stern gulped, "Take us to your leader!"  
"As my master commands," Joujub said, face still planted in the ground.  
"Uh, that means you can get up now," Marsden said helpfully.  
Dar'ugal sighed inwardly, wondering just what he was doing hanging around with humans anyway.

They were led down the path, the soldiers breaking into what Stern assumed was the local equivalent of an honor guard. As they neared the river (which, according to the tricorders topographical scans emptied into a large sea) the terrain became less and less like a desert and more and more like a paradise. It wasn't long before the sand was completely replaced by thick, fertile black soil, in which grew a wide assortment of trees, ferns, fronds and other undergrowth. Large tracts of cultivated land were carefully placed to take advantage of the shelter offered by the trees, and as they came over the crest of a hill they could see the city.  
It wasn't that big, especially by 24th Century standards, but it was still obviously a major center. A conglomeration of small stone hovels quickly gave way to larger and more elaborate mansions, with what was clearly a palace laying near the river. Further downstream were docks and what looked like storage areas, likely for commercial traffic of the time (barges and canoes?). And across the river…  
"Oh geez," Stern groaned, slapping a hand over his face, "like this wasn't getting weird enough,"  
"It's not that weird," Marsden said helpfully, "I mean, they've found similar structures on dozens of worlds-"  
"It's a frickin' ziggurat!" Stern snapped, gesturing at the big, huge, massive, unbelievably large construction, "How did we miss that from the escape pod?"  
But as he spoke, all the soldiers' hands snapped to their swords and, to man, they spit on the ground.  
"Uh, was it something I said?" Stern asked feebly.  
"It is a pyramid, not a ziggurat!" Joujub said fiercely.  
"Uh, what's the difference?" Stern asked.  
"A pyramid has smooth sides," Marsden said, "A ziggurat has stepped sides,"  
"So?"  
"We, the Jurcun, build the pyramid to honour our gods," Joujub said, reverently giving a small bow towards Dar'ugal, "Our enemies, the Yewitch, build their ziggurat to honour their false gods!"  
"He seems rather unwise for a sage," Joujub's second in command commented.  
"Uh, how dare you say that about the servant of the mighty Dar'ugal," Stern said, trying to look angry which, from his 6'4 height, wasn't hard.  
"You are right," Joujub said, bowing at Stern, "Forgive us,"  
He drew his sword and, before anybody could move, gutted his second in command like a fish.  
"WOAH!' Marsden gulped, jumping back from the flood of fluids and entrails as the dying Delori collapsed to the stone path and emitted a gurgling death rattle.  
"We offer his soul in sacrifice to the mighty Dar'ugal, may it repay his sin," Joujub said, bowing low,"  
"Um," Stern, Marsden and Dar'ugal exchanged glances, wondering just what the hell one is supposed to say in such a situation.  
"Thanks?" Stern smiled weakly.

"You know," Simmons said, straining to break his wrists free of the thick leather thongs than had been used to bind them, "Crewman Shwaluk loaned me this neat bondage book his girlfriend bought him, and I'm pretty sure you guys tied these straps on wrong. Why don't you take them off and give it another try?"  
"Silence, damned one!" his captor snapped, pushing him roughly forward.  
Simmons and Rengs had been bound at the wrist and collared with heavy, iron bands, from which chains ran to the hand of the commander of the scouting party that had caught them. The iron was chafing his neck, the straps were cutting off his circulation, and Simmons really wasn't eager to find out if the rumors about what happened in primitive prisons were true.  
Kreklor, on the other hand, had been bound hand and foot, and a large gag had been forced into his mouth, apparently to prevent him from muttering any of his 'cursed spells'. Sadly, one Delori had lost two fingers off his left hand trying to gag the furious Klingon. Kreklor had spit them out, declaring that the taste was terrible, but as there was no ice nearby Simmons really doubted they could be re-attached to the unfortunate man.  
Simmons was suddenly comforted that whatever kind of prison he wound up in, Kreklor would be there to protect him. Unless…surely the Klingon wouldn't want any kind of…repayment? Simmons shuddered. Sure, Kreklor had a girlfriend, but rumors abounded, especially after his hand went somewhere sensitive during a sparring match with Marsden. And there were the stories Steven told of that Klingon resort…never mind the rumors about what happened in the 'big house' back in primitive times…and Klingons were definitely a socially primitive culture in Simmons' opinion.  
Maybe he should work to get on Kreklor's good side, make sure Kreklor saw him as a friend and not as a potential…target…  
"So, Kreklor," Simmons said, "If we end up in prison, if I try and get you as many bitches as possible, you'll leave me alone, right?"  
Kreklor couldn't speak, but his eyes were so full of rage it was a wonder Simmons didn't burst into flames. He flexed his arms, the leather straps creaking as muscles strained, standing out in sharp relief.  
"Silence!" roared the commander, a hard tug on the chains jerking Simmons' head forward. The Delori, upon whose mount Kreklor's heavily bound body was slung, belted the Klingon in the back of the head. Kreklor's struggles did not stop.  
"I feel I should warn you," Rengs said, sounding downright miserable, "That's just going to make him mad,"  
Their phasers and tricorders had been smashed, however their captors failed to notice their communicators. Now they were being led across the desert, slightly downstream of where the other escape pod had touched down.  
"So, um, what are you going to do with us?" Rengs asked, careful to keep his voice as respectful as though he were addressing his local Vedek.  
"You are to be punished for serving this demon," the commander said curtly.  
"What kind of punishment?"  
"I know not. Though most likely you will become slaves for the short remainders of your lives,"  
"The kind of slave Nurse Kerry makes of Crewman Shwaluk?" Simmons asked hopefully.  
"I doubt it," Rengs muttered.  
They were both rewarded by another sharp tug on the chains.  
"And your demon friend will be sacrificed to the gods," the commander finished.  
Kreklor's struggles increased.

Rengs had to give the Delori credit, their justice system was fast. Within two hours they'd been tried of heresy and consorting with the undead. Simmons tried to convince their captors that Kreklor was alive and pointed out the fact that Kreklor had started bleeding when the tribunal's guard poked him with a dagger, but the tribunal was not convinced.  
Krelkor, of course, was sentenced to death. Luckily for him, he was a 'demon' and not a 'mortal'. Had a regular, mortal Delori been sentenced to death, they'd simply be taken behind the Chamber of Judgment to the Platform of Execution (since so many people were illiterate in the city, names had to be kept simple and easy to remember) and his head would have been sliced off. Fortunately, a demonic execution meant days if not weeks of ritual sacrifice.  
Ensign Rengs was sentence to work slave labour on the building of the Master Pyramid, whatever that was, while Ensign Simmons was sentence to life as a house-slave to a powerful Jurcun family.  
"Sounds like you got the better deal," Rengs commented as the two of them were stripped, doused with buckets of water, shaved and forced into slave robes and collars.  
"Don't you know anything about ancient cultures?" Simmons moaned, "When say 'house-slave' they probably mean total house-slave! I'm probably going to be expected provide, er, services I don't wanna give!"  
"Like what?" Rengs grumbled, "Taking out the garbage? Compared to being a construction slave in the Dark Ages, I think you've got it pretty good,"  
"Not that kind of service," Simmons whined. But before they could exchange further words, they were roughly pulled out of the cleansing chamber and hauled off to their new masters.

The next morning Stern woke up in the plush bedchamber that had been given to him as a 'Speaker of the Gods'.  
"Not bad for prehistoric," he commented, climbing out of the bed and rubbing his eyes. Thick hangings had been pulled back to reveal the large archway leading to his private balcony, the stone railing shining in the sunlight. The heavy stone used to the build the structure was great; absorbing heat during the day to keep the place cool then releasing it at night to keep it warm. He stretched, wondering just where the bathroom was.  
"Master," a demur voice came from behind him. Spinning, he found two slaves, a scantily clothed woman and a young man in a loincloth, kneeling by the doorway. The woman wore a simple linen shift, cut short to expose her trim legs, and her dark hair was pulled back in a plain but attractive pony tail. Her eyes and hands were painted with strange Delori symbols and her scent was a strange mix of lilac and cinnamon, while the male had tattoos adorning both arms from wrist to shoulder.  
"Wow," Stern said.  
"We are here to serve, Master," the woman said, eyes downcast, "Do you wish for your morning bathing?"  
Stern gulped.

He finally saw Marsden and Dar'ugal at breakfast. Suji, and Sanji, the slaves he'd been 'assigned' escorted him to an opulent dining hall in which Dar'ugal was sitting at the head of the table, looking somewhat nervous. Marsden was brought in from the other direction, escorted by another beautiful pair of servants.  
"Have a good morning?" Stern asked, a glint in his eyes.  
"Um, um," Marsden gulped, "I've never been so thoroughly bathed before," he said quickly, blushing a little.  
Stern winked and gave a wicked smile.  
"YOU DIDN'T!" Marsden's eyebrows rose, "Dave! I mean, Lieutenant! Sir! You can't just…I mean, she's…"  
"They started it," Stern shrugged, "I guess the slaves here have to do whatever it takes to make ya happy!"  
"I can't believe you'd have such a cavalier attitude about this kind of thing!" Marsden accused, showing more anger in his face than Stern could ever recall seeing in the normally shy man, "These people are forced into this lifestyle, against the strongest principles of the Federation we're sworn to uphold, and you're taking advantage of it!"  
"Hey," Stern frowned, "I didn't see you complaining when we went to that Orion strip club-"  
"That's different!" Marsden shot back, "Those women wanted to be there!"  
"Uh, huh," Stern said, "And how do you know my woman didn't 'want' to pleasure me in the bath tub?"  
Dar'ugal slammed both his fists down on the table, causing the gold flatware to jump. He started making a series of gestures lasting several minutes.  
"He's right," Marsden said, "We have no business taking advantage of anything these people may offer. We're just passing through on our way to…to…what are we looking for?"  
"Saucer wreckage," Stern said.  
"Right,"  
There was silence for several moments.  
"Soo," Marsden said, 'What did you think of the Pharoh?"  
"You mean King Chupanethanderatin?"  
"How the hell did you remember that?"  
Stern shrugged.  
"When you get around as much as I do," he said, "You need to be really good at remembering names," he shrugged again, "He seemed like a decent guy. Looked a bit nervous though,"  
"Well, he was meeting one of his gods, right?"  
"I guess," Stern shrugged again, then gave Marsden a pointed look as he turned off his Universal Translator. Both Marsden and Dar'ugal followed suit.  
"How do they know he's a god?" Stern said, sure now that they couldn't be overheard, "I mean, you saw that temple of theirs, none of their gods are headless!"  
"Noo," Marsden said thoughtfully, "But did you notice that the statues they had in there were all covered in fur? And he did come crashing down from the sky, right?"  
"True," Stern stared picking at the foods that had been set out for them, "So, how do we get out of here now? I can't imagine they'd take very kindly to us just waltzing out with their new god,"  
"What about the rest of the team?"  
"Yeah, and we need them too," Stern peeled the skin of something resembling a blue orange before popping a chunk into this mouth, "Hmm…disgusting," he said thoughtfully.  
"I've been trying to get through this weird interference," Marsden went on, "I can't get the comm-badges to work, but I am picking up the saucer's emergency beacon. It's coming from way down the river, maybe even in that big sea we saw. I'm thinking we need to steal a boat and make our way down there,"  
"Excellent work!" Stern grinned widely, "That was faster than I expected!"  
"What can I say?" Marsden shrugged, "I'm good,"  
Well, it's not so much that he's good, but being the only group of survivors so far to have actually SEEN the crash, he's got one hell of a head start, doesn't he? But let's let him have his moment of glory. There. Done. And back to our story…  
The three turned their translators back on as a regally dressed Delori entered the room. He wore gold on every conceivable body part, and his face was painted to give it appearance of being made of solid marble.  
"My masters," he bowed slightly, his escorts bowing much lower.  
"Oh, hey," Mardsen gave a small wave, 'How's it going, King Chupatittykitty?"  
Stern kicked him under the table.  
"Chupanethanderatin," he corrected.  
"Master enjoys his little amusements," Chupanejank…aw, fuck it, can't I just call him King Chupa?

The management apologizes for the lazy author's sudden lack of cooperation and assures you all he will be punished most severely. We furthermore apologize for the reference to King Chupa, as there are apparently some East Indian languages where 'Chupa' is a slang word for…something best not mentioned in civilized conversation. In the meantime, King Chupanethu…Chupanetenda…geez. Um, we'll just call him 'the King', OK?

"Master enjoys his little amusements," King Chupa…OW! Fine! Said the King!  
"Yeah, he sure does," Stern said darkly.  
"Wonderful news!" the King went on, "I learned yesterday that one of the demons of the underworld was found in the desert yesterday, along with two of his slaves!"  
The three team members exchanged glances.  
"Uh, that's great news," Stern said, "Um, his exaltedness, Dar'ugal, is pleased with your work,"  
At the mention of his name, Dar'ugal sat up properly in his seat as the King, his escorts and the slaves assigned to Stern and Marsden dropped to their knees.  
"What is the name of the demon?" Stern asked.  
"He is called Kreklor," the King said.  
"I could have told you that," Marsden muttered.  
"And what's become of his slaves?" Stern asked.  
"The loud one has been given to Captain Joujub's household, as a reward for finding the exalted god,"  
"Simmons," Marsden groaned.  
"And the other has been sent to work on the pyramid," the King finished.  
Dar'ugal pointed to his eyes, then held a finger up above each shoulder, trying to mime devil horns. Not an easy task when one is without a head.  
"We wish to see this demon and his slaves," Stern translated, "Uh, but can I have a few minutes alone with my slave first?"  
The King shrugged and gestured. Suji rose to her feet and began approaching Stern.  
"No, no," Stern said, "You've had your turn," he gave Sanji a 'come-hither' gesture, "I'm in the mood for something…different,"  
Even as the slave timidly raised his head, Dar'ugal rose from his chair and started walking towards the door, smacking Stern upside the head on his way by.  
"The mighty Dar'ugal says 'no'," Marsden translated dutifully.  
"Thanks, I got that," Stern grumbled, rubbing his head and following.

Their first stop was Simmons.  
Captain Joujub was thrilled to welcome them to his home, giving them a royal welcome. Which made sense, as the King was royalty. His home was huge, with a large, open entrance hall leading off to a maze of hallways and chambers. Behind the house was a walled-in garden.  
"Yes, the new slave was a wonderful gift," he was saying to Stern, "Though, he is not well trained. We are still working on that,"  
He clapped his hands softly together.  
"I'm coming, I'm c..YEOWITCH!"  
Simmons' voice was accompanied by the crack of a whip.  
"My apologies," Joujub said, "The hardest part of training him is getting him to be silent," he looked thoughtful, "I am considering having his vocal cords removed,"  
Dar'ugal was suddenly overcome by fits of giggles.  
"It it amuses my god, I will do so at once," Joujub said, noticing Dar'ugal's reaction.  
"No, no," Stern said quickly, "It's just that…the might Dar'ugal finds it amusing that this slave is…annoying," he finished rather weakly.  
Finally, Simmons came into view, dressed in a white loincloth, leather sandals, and sporting several angry-red welts on his back.  
"Finally!" he said, "It's about...what?"  
Stern had given him a cold look.  
"How long will this slave be staying here?" he asked.  
"Until he is killed," Joujub shrugged, "Hopefully, that won't happen for several years. Strapping young male slaves are very hard to come by these days; most are sent immediately to the Pyramid,"  
"And what do you have to say for yourself?" Stern said to Simmons, "Consorting with a 'demon', huh?"  
"Oh, er, yeah," Simmons said, trying to play along, "That Kreklor. He's a…a nasty piece of work,"  
"And where did this demon come from?" Marsden jumped in.  
"Uh, the underworld?" Simmons looked confused.  
"Right," Stern cut back in, "But this underworld…would you say it was…round? Perhaps even, saucer shaped?"  
"Uh, sure," Simmons shrugged, "Why not,"  
Dar'ugal, having been rubbing his face with one hand in frustration, tapped Stern's arm, then pointed at his comm-badge.  
"Ohhh, right," Stern coloured. Right. Why bother trying to speak in an obscure code when none of the Delori understood Standard anyway? But how to explain?  
"Uh," Stern said, "The mighty Dar'ugal-"  
Everybody dropped to their knees, then rose,"  
"Damn, that's getting annoying," Marsden grunted.  
"Right, anyway, the mighty Dar'ugal-"  
Everybody dropped to their knees. Stern waited for them to rise.  
"Dar'ugal!"  
They dropped again.  
"Dar'ugal!"  
And again.  
"Dar!" Stern stopped halfway through the name. The Delori started kneeling, then stopped.  
"UGAL!" Stern shouted. The Delori fell to their knees.  
Dar'ugal smacked Stern upside the head again.  
"That means 'quit it'," Marsden translated.  
"Guess what this means," Stern grumbled, raising one finger.  
"Actually," Marsden blushed, "In Delori society, it means you want us to get married,"  
Stern quickly put his finger down.  
"Rejected!" one of the Delori muttered.  
Stern glared at the speaker. Joujub pulled out his sword, but Marsden quickly stopped him from slaying the man.  
"Anyway," Stern said, "The mighty…uh, master here, has ordered us to use our holy language to force this slave to tell us what we wish to know! So, uh, cover your ears,"  
They turned off their translators and explained the situation, including the location of the crashed saucer, to Simmons, who did his best to act as though he were being tortured.  
"That is so unfair!" he wailed, "You guys get waited on hand and foot while I've been doing…kitchen work! Do you KNOW how disgusting a compost pile is?"  
"You're safe enough here for the moment," Stern shrugged, "Just sit tight. We'll come get you before we go anywhere,"  
"Hurry," Simmons pleaded, "I don't know what all they're gonna make me do!"  
"Well," Marsden said, "Judging from Stern's slaves, you'd better hope you're not here too long,"  
"Wait, what? Simmons cried, "WHAT?"  
Winking, Marsden re-activated his translator.  
"Take him away," he said, waving a hand.  
Still shouting for answers, Simmons was dragged back into the kitchens.

The visit to Rengs was somewhat calmer. They repeated the translator trick, advising Rengs of their plan to steal a ship, and left the Bajoran to his job of hauling rocks. Unlike Simmons, his tasks were straightforward. Help his gang of slaves haul a very big rock up the tiered sides of the pyramid, go down and get another one. Repeat. As long as he didn't get crushed, he'd be just fine.  
Finally, the time came to visit Kreklor.  
"Do you guys smell barbeque?" Marsden asked, sniffing the air.  
"Yeah, actually," Stern said, "Hey, King, what are you guys cooking for dinner?"  
"Dinner?" the King raised an eyebrow, "It is only 2 turns of the dial. Evening meal is not for 4 more turns, but if Master is hungry…"  
"No, no," Stern said, "It was just…nevermind…"  
They were led up the steps of an elaborate temple. Marsden was reminded almost of the Greek Acropolis, which of course had nothing to do with Egypt. But that was OK, since Delorea 2 was light-years away from Earth.  
They were led past what must have been the temple to their head god, whatever he or she was called. Anyway, it was the largest temple. Off to one side was another, smaller temple. Its walls were the grey of ash, the entranceway was guarded by two stone statues of strange creatures. They looked almost like a mix between a Klingon and a squid, with high, wrinkled foreheads and 10 sucker-tipped tentacles.  
"Looks like a Klingon mated with a Velvattian," Stern muttered.  
"Actually," Marsden said helpfully, "Velvattians self-impregnate.  
"I hear they make great security officers," Stern said.  
"Maybe we can get one when we get back to Federation space,"  
"Yeah, but who would feed it and take care of it?"  
"Don't be an ass, sir," Marsden rolled his eyes.  
"This is the Temple of the Vexed," the King advised them, "Home of the dark gods,"  
"Doesn't look very popular," Stern observed. Indeed, they were the only people climbing the steps into the temple. Everybody else was going to the larger, more splendid temple or one of the smaller but less foreboding temples nearby.  
"Yes, well," the King shrugged, "Few have chosen to worship the dark gods after we declared that any who did would be executed,"  
"Good point," Stern nodded.  
They walked through a small antechamber, within which stood two very large guards holding huge war-axes. One ax still had fresh blood on it and a slave was busy scrubbing more blood off the floor.  
"Somebody tried to worship the demon, I take it?" the King asked.  
"Yes, your majesty," the guard said, both of them dropping to their knees.  
"Any difficulties with the execution?"  
The guard looked uncomfortable.  
"He hit him too hard," the other guard broke in, "The fool's head bounced halfway down the stairs before he could catch it!"  
The King chuckled.  
"Ahh, to be young again," he laughed as he gestured reverently for Stern and party to proceed him.  
"Er, right," Stern said.  
A short hallway brought them into the central hall itself, the smell growing stronger with each step.  
"My god!" Marsden breathed.  
Dar'ugal smiled and gave a gesture of thanks.  
"Not you!" Marsden said, pointing.  
In the center of the room, suspended above a pit of hot coals (the source of the barbeque smell) was Kreklor. He wore only a dark loincloth, his hair fell in thick tangles down his shoulders and sweat shone on his skin. He had welts and burns all over his body and even as they watched a pair of Delori in red ceremonial garb pressed red-hot pokers to his flesh, electing a scream.  
"Kreklor!" Stern gasped, trying hard not to let his concern show, fully aware that he was supposed to be Kreklor's enemy. He couldn't believe what had been done to the officer, how on earth could sentient beings treat each other like this? What gave them the right?  
The situation was suddenly much less amusing than it had been before.  
He turned off his comm-badge and tried to sound angry.  
"Are you OK? Talk to me?"  
Kreklor said something in Klingon.  
"Shit," Marsden swore angrily, "I knew we all wore those translators for a reason,"  
"I am.." Kreklor said, words heavily accented as he struggled to speak Standard.  
"Yes?" Stern asked, "Are you OK? Are you in pain? Do we need to bust you out right now?"  
"I am," Kreklor struggled to raise his head, "having a wonderful vacation!"

"Stupid pain-loving cultures and their stupid…pain-loving!" Stern said angrily as he stormed back into the dining hall of the palace, Marsden and Dar'ugal close behind him, "Red-hot pokers, flaming pits, no food, no water. And the sick bastard's loving it!"  
"He could setup a Klingon resort here," Marsden said, "Who knows? Leave him hanging there long enough and he might start having visions of Kahless or something,"  
"Maybe he was just too delirious to realize he was being tortured," Stern said, half to himself, "I mean, nobody would actually WANT to endure days of searing pain, right?"  
"He's only been in there for less than a day," Marsden said, "An Andorian wouldn't even be sweating at this point."  
"We gotta get him out of their and blow this joint," Stern said firmly, "Enough playing around. It's time to go,"  
"But we just got here," Marsden said arching an eybrow and looking at Stern, "Don't you want to spend a few more days exploiting innocent slaves and making a mockery of this culture's religion while your fellow officers are subjected to depravity and cruelty?"  
Stern looked at him for a moment.  
"Is that a hypothetical question?" Stern asked.  
Dar'ugal grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck and started dragging them towards the nearest window.

"You will fetch me my dinner immediately,"  
"Right, got it," Simmons sighed.  
He was quickly rewarded with a hard kick.  
"You will address me as 'Master', slave!" snapped the youth.  
"Right, Master," Simmons said, sounding heavily sarcastic. He started walking down the hall to the kitchen.  
"Serving that oaf," Simmons grunted, "Sure, he's the son of one of the more important men in the city, and he's got three wives already, and all the girls think he's dreamy, but he's still dumb as a post!"  
He reached the kitchen where another slave had already prepared and set out the thick stew that was that evening's meal. Grabbing the ornate silver tray, Simmons started back towards his master's room. He decided to make a quick pit-stop in an empty guest room to make a few 'additions' to the meal.  
Placing the platter on the floor he quickly adjusted his loincloth and commenced  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  
"AIIYYYEEE!" Simmons squealed, quickly grabbing up the tray and kneeling, "Nothing, master, I thought I saw, er a bug in your stew…hey, I know that voice…"  
"Heya slave-boy," Stern said from the window, "Had enough punishment yet?"  
"Yes, yes I have!" Simmons said, "You have no idea how degrading this is!"  
"Yeah," Stern nodded, "I can see how having to serve food with your willy hanging out could be degrading,"  
"It wasn't…oh," Simmons quickly adjust his loincloth again, "Look, just let me take this food to the mighty fat jerk. I want at least some revenge before I leave,"  
"Whatever," Stern said, "Just be quick! They're going to miss us at the palance any minute now!"  
Grabbing up the, um, contaminated meal, Simmons hurried down the stone corridor to his master's chamber.  
Wordlessly, he placed the tray on the table, gave an awkward bow and started to back out.  
"Wait, slave,"  
Crap!  
"Come here," his master was standing by the bed, his three wives lying back on the pillows.  
"Uh, yeah?" Simmons gulped, "Uh, master?"  
"I have need of your…special services…" his master said, a dark gleam in his eye.  
Oh no, Simmons thought to himself, here it is. This is where I have to be the total slave, the bitch, the sex monkey…and if only I'd just left! I don't want to be violated! This is so unfair!  
"My secondary wife requires pleasuring," his master said, "And I have other matters to attend to. Accompany her to her chambers,"  
"I…what?" Simmons' eyebrows rose in shock, "Your wife?"  
"Yes, yes, don't bother me with the details; just get it done," his master said.  
"Yes, great master!" Simmons said gleefully, leading the woman out of the room.  
He followed her a few doors down the hall. As soon as the door shut she turned to kiss him. After a few moments she pulled back.  
"Listen carefully, slave," she said, "This is what I expect: You will serve me completely. I don't want any foolish male posturing, simply do as I command,"  
"Yes ma'am!"  
"You will start with-"  
BZZZZZZ!  
A phaser beam shot in the window, hitting the woman in the back and sending her falling to the floor, stunned.  
"We don't have time for this!" Stern said sharply from the window, gesturing for Simmons to join him.  
"But…but…"  
"COME ON!"

"So, what did you think of that last rock?" Rengs asked, "Pretty heavy, huh?"  
His neighbors said nothing.  
"Right then," Rengs rubbed his nose, "I'll be quiet then. Not that I'm not used to it, noo. My dear wife never tells me to shut up so she can have a quiet night,"  
The thought of his wife gave him a momentary sense of loneliness, which was quickly chased away by a feeling of gratitude that she was safe on Starbase 45.  
"Well," he muttered, "I guess I'll just find an empty…corner to curl up in until the morning,"  
The slave's quarters at the foot of the pyramid were hardly luxurious; one would barely call them livable. They had too few latrines, not enough food and too many people. Rengs was a healthy, active security officer, and he'd been quickly spotted by the overseers as a strong worker. It was no wonder the long-time slaves were on the verge of dropping dead; many of them were so emaciated he could count each rib. Strangely, the starving prisoners reminded him of photographs of 20th Century Earth fashion models he'd seen in a Datapad Digest article.  
"PSSST!"  
He looked around. Either one of his slave-mates had just passed gas, or somebody was trying to get his attention.  
"PSST! Rengs!"  
Well that settled it. People didn't usually speak with their flatulence. Except for the Muntegans, and they were one of the less popular races in the galaxy.  
He quickly exited the long shack that served as the sleeping barracks, heading towards the latrine before quickly cutting into the shadows next to the building. There he found Stern, Dar'ugal and Marsden.  
"Ready to go?" Stern asked.  
"Um, no," Rengs said.  
"What, you like being a slave?" Stern crossed his arm, "I mean, Simmons was having fun, but-"  
"You were?" Rengs asked.  
"The woman was hot!"  
"Enough!" Stern hissed, "C'mon!"  
"Wait," Rengs said, "What about the rest of them? The other slaves?"  
"Oh no, no, no!" Stern shook his finger, "Prime Directive-"  
"Is shot!" Rengs said, "Look, I know we don't have to, but, I mean, at the same time I really think we do."  
Stern looked pain.  
"We could use a distraction while we get Kreklor out of the temple," Marsden said.  
"Oh fine!" Stern groaned, throwing up his arms, "Darg, give Rengs your phaser and come with me. Marsden, you two wait for our signal, then start blasting guards,"  
"Aye, sir,"

Stern and Dar'ugal easily gained access to the Temple of the Vexed; Dar'ugal's godly status was more than enough to get them in. Unwilling to risk resistance on the way out, Stern stunned the guards from behind.  
"Don't tell Kreklor I shot them in the back," he said to Dar'ugal, "He'd start going on about that whole 'honor' thing,"  
The main hall was deserted, except for Kreklor, who was singing a Klingon opera as he hung from the chains.  
"Any idea what he's singing?" Stern asked.  
Dar'ugal made a series of gestures.  
"Something about, um, battle and, er, constipation?"  
Dar'ugal shook his shoulders 'no' and started a fresh gesture.  
"Pain? Hurting? Your've stubbed your toe?" Stern guessed.  
Dar'ugal tried again.  
"You know, I suck at charades," Stern said, "Where's Marsden when you need him?"  
Dar'ugal waved towards Kreklor.  
"Right, right, let's cut him down and get out of here,"

"Did we remember to ask Stern what the signal was going to be?" Simmons asked.  
"Nope," Marsden replied.  
"Why not?"  
"Cuz it's, you know, a signal," Marsden said, "I mean, we'll know it when we see it, right?"  
A phaser beam shot up into the sky, coming from somewhere in the direction of the temple.  
"I bet that's the signal!" Simmons said.  
"Or they tried to shoot somebody and missed," Marsden said.  
"They shot somebody straight up?"  
"Good point,"  
They proceeded to charge the guards, blasting them with their phasers while Rengs started shouting for the slaves to wake up and make a run for it. At first, his shouts were met with a few skeptical glances, but after the first slave caught sight of Marsden shooting an energy beam from his hand and stunning a guard a sudden cry went up and the tired, sagging slaves instantly transformed into a stampeding wave of running, fleeing ex-slaves.  
"That works as a distraction!"

Stern ran as quickly as he could from the temple to the royal docks. The distance wasn't far, but he kept having to stun guards with his phaser. Alarmed, he noticed that he'd gone through nearly half of the weapon's charge already.  
"Stupid hand phasers," he muttered. Dar'ugal followed him, Kreklor's body slung over his shoulder. The Klingon was still groggy and seemed to be muttering something about having an impact therapy session in an hour.  
They rushed the docks as shouts started going up from nearby. Clearly somebody had found the unconscious guards.  
"Which ship should we take?" he asked. The heavy stone pathway they were on had dropped to the level of the river with several large ships moored alongside, sails gathered tightly to the rigging. Clearly these boats and ships belonged to the well-to-do of Delori society.  
Dar'ugal pointed.  
"You always want the red ship!" Stern snapped, "Look at that green one…it looks fast,"  
Dar'ugal spread his arms to indicated 'big', nearly dropping Kreklor in the process.  
"Right, right," Stern muttered, "Size matters. Fine!"  
Then ran up the gangplank, pushing it down into the water and rushing to untie the ship from the docks.

"How are they doing?" Marsden asked as he, Rengs and Simmons rowed the small canoe they'd used to cross the river on their way to the pyramid to free Rengs.  
"Well," Rengs squinted, watching as a the sails on one of the ships suddenly fell open, hanging far to limply on their masts, "I don't think they know how to sail,"  
"Shouldn't the ship be moving now?" Simmons asked.  
"I honestly have no idea how you're supposed to drive one of those things," Marsden admitted.  
"I do," Rengs said.  
"Doesn't do them much good from here, huh?"  
"Then let's row faster!"

They came alongside the larger ship and waited as Dar'ugal dropped down a rope ladder.  
"Some help would be good," Stern called, "We've got company!"  
They quickly climbed to the deck and looked back. Two more ships were pulling free of the dock, starting to move slowly in their direction.  
Rengs started barking commands.  
"Tighten up the mainsail!" he snapped, "Somebody tie down that rope! No, Simmons, that one over there! I'll take the wheel,"  
Stern stared at him for a moment.  
"You know what you're doing?" he asked.  
Rengs nodded.  
"Then by all means, you have the conn!"  
"Where are we going anyway?" Rengs asked.  
Marsden tapped at his tricorder, trying to trace the source of the saucer's distress beacon.  
"Follow the river to the sea," he said, "And let's make it fast, we've got a long way to go,"  
"One saucer section, coming right up," Simmons said, dangling upside down from a rope he'd somehow become entangled in.

To be continued…

Next: Questions are finally being answered! Each bunch of crewman hold a different piece of the Delori puzzle and they're all making a beeline for the wreckage! Who makes it? Who doesn't? Who suffers from dreadful constipation? More answers and fresh questions coming your way next with Star Traks Silverado 3.10: 'Convergence'!


	10. Convergence

Star Traks: Silverado

3.10 "Convergence"

Week 3:

"Are we there yet?" Lieutenant Jall asked, hunched miserably over his horse. Well, almost a horse. A horse with 6 legs and a tail that looked more like a corkscrew, but still. A rose by any other name and all that.  
"No we are not," T'Parief replied.  
There was silence for a few moments as the trio rode around another bend in the twisted forest path they were following.  
"Are we there yet now?" Jall asked again.  
"No!" Wowryk snapped, rummaging around her med-kit for more cough drops.  
They trotted down the path for several more minutes, heavy branches covered in thick, wet leaves slapping against them, lightening flashing through the tree canopy, the rumble of thunder crashing through the forest.  
"When will we get there?" Jall asked, trying to shake the water from his head as the rain pounded down on them.  
"The question is not 'when will we get there'," T'Parief grumbled angrily, "But which of us will still be alive when we get there,"  
"But it's wet and I'm cold!" Jall whined.  
T'Parief had shed his survival jacket again and was letting the heavy rain pour against his bare upper body. He found it invigorating; rinsing the dust from his scales, keeping his flesh cool and moist. No matter how many scale oils or lotions Yanick had found for him, he'd always found that the atmosphere on Silverado left his scaly hide uncomfortably dry, to the point where he seriously wondered whether or not his species was capable of shedding his skin. Of course, since his species was artificially created it would just be a matter of calling up his dear old dad and asking.  
Better to just see if Jall could shed his skin. And live.  
They'd been traveling non-stop for days. There'd been no sign of pursuit from Lord Dyer or any of his minions…probably because there wasn't really any way for the evil lord to know in just what direction they were fleeing. Ahh, the joy of medival forensics: grab some poor sod who looked guilty and toss him in the slammer. Tracking fugitives really wasn't much of an art. Or science.  
That didn't mean they were off the hook. From what the tricorder could tell them, the wreckage of Silverado had come down somewhere in the Central Sea. The ship's emergency distress beacon was still broadcasting, but they had no idea how much of the ship was actually near the beacon, how much had burnt up in the atmosphere and how much had broken off and crashed on other parts of the planet.  
Still, the beacon was something. If they could get to it, they could use it to call for help through the thick layer of temporal interference blanketing the planet.  
As the first hailstones started to fall, Jall started coughing miserably.  
Wowryk sighed, then winced as the tiny hailstones started hitting her.  
"T'Parief, perhaps it is time to make camp," she suggested.  
"You make camp," he replied, hopping off his horse and shedding his survival packs, "I will find us something to eat,"  
With that, he ran off into the trees, tail outstretched and head low.  
They dragged the packs and the horses deeper into the woods to avoid catching the attention of anybody else coming up the path.  
"You ever get the feeling," Jall asked, rubbing his nose and sniffling, "that he's getting a little tired of hanging out with us?"  
Wowryk looked at him for a moment, then started pulling out the tent.  
"I guess he's just being his usual, moody self," Jall went on, "Not like he ever smiles or anything, oh no,"  
"Jall," Wowryk said, "We are colleagues. We are fellow survivors. Those who don't know us better might believe us to be friends. But if you don't shut up and give us just a bit of piece and quiet, I wouldn't be surprised if T'Parief's cooking you for breakfast!"  
"Oh," Jall said, "Um, OK,"  
He silently put up the second tent, activated the tiny heating unit and climbed inside.

T'Parief flew through the woods at top speed, tree branches sliding off his hide as he went by. His nostrils flared as he searched for a scent, any scent. All he could smell was the fresh rain; all other scents were washed right out. All in all, it really wasn't good hunting weather. His tongue flicked out, a useless gesture picked up from his Gorn father who 'tasted' the air as a form of smell.  
There was a sharp crack; the sound of a twig snapping under the weight of a heavy body. Coming to a stop he cocked his head, listening carefully.  
He had only a split-second warning, then there was a flash of tan fur and a heavy weight slamming him to the ground.  
The animal, a six-legged cat-like creature screamed at him, showing 3 inch fangs. T'Parief growled back, clamping his hands on the animal's neck and wrestling it to the ground. The two of them rolled around, the cat's heavy claws leaving marks on T'Parief's scales, his claws drawing blood. Finally, after several moments of fighting he slashed the animal's throat, blood spurting out as he severed a major artery. But he kept slashing, digging into the animal's flank with his teeth and tearing at the flesh, rending the creature with his claws.

An hour later, Wowryk watched as T'Parief returned to camp, the body of a deer-like animal slung over his shoulder.  
"Are you all right?" she asked, "You're covered with blood,"  
"It isn't mine," T'Parief said curtly.  
"Oh," Wowryk frowned, "That looks like a lot of blood from an animal as small as that deer,"  
"The blood is not from the deer,"  
Wowryk looked confused.  
T'Parief rolled his eyes.  
"Doctor," he said, "Do you really think that killing one small deer would be enough to relieve the tension of spending more than 2 weeks with Jall? Incidentally," he waved back to where scavengers were already gathering around the shredded corpse of the cat-animal, "Do not go over there,"

The next few days of travel were uneventful. The rain faded and the sun returned, Jall's endless tirade of complains had dwindled to a trickle, and T'Parief was slaughtering two, sometimes three animals a night. He'd eat one of them, bringing the other slung over his shoulder for Jall and Wowryk to eat. Wowryk wasn't truly a vegetarian, though she did make more than a few comments about cruelty to animals. It only took Jall mentioning the various animal sacrifices featured in the Bible once for her to clam up.  
They finally arrived at the coast, the forest path gradually widening and joining up with other pathways before merging with a wide, cobblestone road. T'Parief hid under a heavy hooded cloak they'd made from animal skins, Jall had a slightly rusted sword strapped to one hip and Wowryk was sure to keep her dagger in plain sight. Not knowing what to expect they'd gone with what they remembered of their Starfleet training: Primitive cultures in which the people did not leave home without a weapon were usually dangerous. Yup, it took them 4 years at the Academy to learn that one.  
It was mid-day when they arrived. The town was the same size as Lord Dyer's walled city, but the wall of this town was U-shaped. The open end of the U was the shore of the Central Sea. They could see over a dozen small sailing ships moored at the docks, some of them unloading cargo, others loading and some just sitting there doing a whole lot of nothing. 2 larger ships were clearly military vessels judging from the uniformed men walking their decks and the heavy cannons poking out the gunwales.  
"Anything new?" T'Parief grumbled, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood.  
Jall tapped at his tricorder.  
"The wreckage is about 200 miles out to see," Jall said, "I can't get any kind of reading on the wreck, the temporal interference is messing up the tricorder scans,"  
"I thought we'd fixed that," Wowryk said.  
"So did I," Jall said, frowning, "I compensated for the local interference. That should let me scan anywhere on the planet, even though the heavier interference is blocking any signals from reaching orbit. Still, something's blocking my scans here too, but only towards the sea. I can still scan behind us right to the end of the tricorder's range,"  
"Weird," Wowryk said.  
"Yup," Jall nodded, then shut up again.  
"Lieutenant," Wowryk started.  
"Call me Jall," Jall said curtly, "We're undercover,"  
"Lieutenant," Wowryk said, "I'm sorry if I offended you earlier,"  
"Don't worry about it," Jall waved her off, "If talking with me bothers you, I won't inflict myself or my views on you,"  
"About time," T'Parief muttered.  
"So what's our plan?" Jall asked, "How do we get 200 miles out to the open sea without a ship?"  
"We don't," T'Parief said, "We need to steal a ship,"  
"Steal?" Wowryk exclaimed, "But that violates-"  
"Yes, one of the 10 Commandments," Jall said, moving towards the city.  
"But-"  
"We must get a ship to reach the crash sight," T'Parief said simply.  
"Well yes," Wowryk admitted, "But-"  
"You have a better idea then?" Jall called back over his shoulder.  
"Yes, actually," Wowryk said.

"Arrghh," grunted the merchant Captain, "What be your qualifications?"  
Jall wasn't really sure if the Delori merchant was really talking like that, or if the tiny computer chip controlling his Universal Translator was trying to be cute.  
"We're got years of experience working on ships," Jall said, "By big friend here is, um, a great soldier. The smaller one here is a doctor, and I'm an expert in operations,"  
Wowryk had hidden her hair under her hat and wore a baggy shirt over a tight undershirt in an effort to hide her breasts. A little extra padding in the front of her pants completed the illusion that she was a male.  
"I feel disgusting," she had commented when the disguise had been completed.  
"You look great," Jall assured her.  
"Compliments from you don't make me feel better!"  
"What be operations?" the merchant Captain demanded.  
"Um," Jall struggled for a moment, "I, uh, fix things. And I'm an expert on the stars,"  
"Navigation, we'll say," said the Captain, "Arrghh. I be Captain Munderfal. If ye be willing, ye can join me crew. I pay 4 higars a week, plus ye get a share of me bounty,"  
"Somebody fix that stupid translator," Wowryk muttered, "I feel like I'm in a cheesy pirate movie,"

The ship set sail the next morning. It wasn't much to look at; the wood was slightly rotten, the sails were patched and the cargo wasn't the greatest. They were hauling kegs of mead from Port Humujabi to Port Humnujadu. Still, standing on the deck as the wind caught the sails and the ship picked up speed the three officers took a moment to savor the open sea before them.  
"It's not warp drive," Jall said, patting Wowryk on the back, "But it's a start,"

The Man, the Woman and the Crentor

Week 3:

"Quiet," Stafford whispered, holding a finger to his lips and wincing. His arm was still very, very tender. The med-kit they'd taken from the escape pod before it self-destructed had been enough to extract the bullets, but the battery in the dermal regenerator had given out halfway through repairing his arm, leaving him with a bloody wound that had to be bandaged the old-fashioned way and packed into a sling.  
Stafford, Jeffery and Yanick had packed up all evidence that they'd ever been at the hotel they'd called home, quit their jobs and purchased a small used vehicle, just large enough for the three of them and their salvaged survival gear. They'd immediately started the trek up the coast to the Bendjari Oceanic Research Facility. Stafford, being the least mobile of the three, scoped the place out with binoculars. Jeffery, being more technically inclined, had quickly located an underground data line he could tap into with his tricorder. And Yanick, having the biggest breasts, was sent to hang out at the local restaurants and bars, trying to learn whatever she could about the facility. So far, they'd managed to learn that they submersible that was being sent to investigate the 'meteor' (which the local government knew perfectly well was a crashed space vessel) wasn't due to arrive for another day.  
The three of them had resolved to sneak aboard the Investigator, a research vessel usually on loan to the Delori military. If the wreckage of the ship had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, there was a slim chance the submersible would be able to retrieve the subspace beacon. The big surprise had been in the images Jeffery had recovered from the Azdeka Observatory. The life pod Stafford, Yanick and Jeffery had been in had been caught in the turbulence between Silverado and Stalart's ship and sent tumbling off course. The result of course, being that they didn't have the slightest clue what had happened to the ship after they'd escaped. They'd assumed the entire ship had crashed in the ocean.  
The photos told a different story.  
The large, full-colour 8 by 10 prints Jeffery had obtained showed crystal clear images of Silverado's saucer section as it fell through the atmosphere towards the planet; they could even read her registry number off the hull. Of the engineering section and the twin warp nacelles there was no sign. Jeffery suggested that the systems malfunction had triggered the emergency saucer separation and that the stardrive section had probably crashed on a different part of the planet. Stafford suggested that he really didn't care about the stardrive section at the moment, if the saucer had the emergency beacon, that was were any survivors would be headed. Jeffery suggested that they had a responsibility to ensure that the matter and anti-matter fuel in the stardrive section wasn't destroying the local ecology. Stafford suggested that Jeffery could go stuff himself. Yanick suggested they both shut up and that they should buy gelati before the store closed.  
Eating the Delori equivalent of gelati, they quickly planned their assault.  
Jeffery, having cut himself a fake access code, disguised himself as a janitor and entered the facility. The Investigator was scheduled to dock in slip 3, the high security slip. Using his tricorder and avoiding the security patrols, he'd carefully sabotaged one of the entry doors.  
The next day, the three of them watched carefully as the Investigator eased into the dock.  
"So, how are we supposed to get control of the sub?" Yanick asked.  
"I'm not sure if we got to that part of the plan," Stafford said, shifting his weight and wincing as his arm protested, "Jeffery was just supposed to hack into the crew manifest and get us on board,"  
"Done," Jeffery said.  
"If we're on the crew manifest," Yanick asked, scratching her head, "why do we need to sneak onto the ship?"  
"Cuz otherwise," Jeffery explained for the third time, "We'd have to get through the security checkpoints and answer lots of really awkward questions,"  
"Like, 'what's your grandmother's maiden name'," Stafford said.  
"Or 'did ye pack these bags yerself? Did ye leave them unattended at any time," Jeffery went on.  
"Oh, right!" Yanick exclaimed, nodding her head, "Or, 'is that an electric shaver making your bag vibrate, or a dil'-"  
"Ship's docked," Stafford said quickly

The three of them snuck up the gangway and onto the Investigator, trying to look as casual as possible. Their first stop was the ship's laundry, where they quickly grabbed garments suitable to their fake assignments. Stafford, or 'Sendal', was assigned to Ship's Services and would be working in the galley. His arm was still bandaged, but at least they'd managed to treat it well enough that the sling wasn't necessary. He was in a great deal of pain, but working on the bridge with Jall for over two years had taught him a surprising amount about pain control. Yanick, or 'Bottoks' was working as an administrative assistant in the laboratory and Jeffery, AKA 'Zetik' was working as a sonar technician.  
"Simon, we really need to have a discussion about these job postings you keep giving us," Stafford complained, "I mean, if you're hacking into these primitive computers anyway, can't you get me something a bit more, I dunno, prestigious?"  
"Ye mean a job where ye'd be noticed? Screw up the timeline? Something like that?" Jeffery asked.  
"Well, when you put it that way…"  
"Ahh, Mr. Zetik, I presume?"  
A tall, dark-skinned Delori with thick eyeglasses had approached them.  
"Er, yes?" Jeffery said.  
"Glad to see you made it on board. I really must admit, the circumstances of your arrival are most unusual, but given our mission we need nothing but the best. I am Chief Scientist Braniux,"  
"Pleased to meet ye," Jeffery touched fingertips briefly with the Chief Scientist, following Delori tradition.  
"Likewise, likewise," Braniux nodded to Jeffery, continuing to ignore Stafford and Yanick, "Now then, I understand you've been briefed on our mission?"  
"Er, just the official story," Jeffery said, following Braniux as he headed for the Research Deck and leaving Stafford and Yanick behind, "Meteorite hunt and all that,"  
"Preposterous," Braniux sniffed, "Like they'd divert a vessel of the Investigator's prestige for that! No, my boy, we're on the hunt for possible the most important discovery in Delori history! An actual alien spacecraft! Image it! Not only would we have an answer to the question of whether there is life on other worlds, but perhaps an explanation for our own world as well! And as such, my boy, I need you to be ever vigilant in ensuring that the primary and side-scanning sonar systems are at their absolute peak! Now, off you go,"  
He patted Jeffery on the shoulder and went on his way.

"And he's off again," Stafford grumbled, crossing his arms, "Why does he keep forgetting that I'M the Captain? I'm in charge; this is MY mission!"  
"Y'know Chris," Yanick said softly, "there really isn't a mission,"  
Stafford blinked.  
"But…"  
"We're just trying to get home, Chris," Yanick said, "The mission's already over. It failed, I think, when we crashed the ship into a planet,"  
Stafford winced.  
"That doesn't explain why Jeffery's off being the guy with all the info while I'm gonna be stirring a giant pot of baked beans!"  
"Well," Yanick started leading Stafford down the cramped passageway, hoping to avoid drawing attention, "IMHBO, I think-"  
"What?"  
"In My Humble, Blond Opinion," Yanick clarified, "I think that we'd be screwed if we couldn't do all this computer stuff. The hacking and cutting-"  
"Slicing, Trish. This isn't a slasher movie."  
"Whatever," Yanick had found the galley and had pulled Stafford inside, "We'd be screwed without it. And Jeffery's the one with all the techno know-how. Without him, we'd be begging for scraps in an alley somewhere," she frowned, "Or maybe dead,"  
"Well, yeah," Stafford agreed reluctantly, "But he still needs to report to me!"  
"Well, maybe you just need to make that clearer to him," Yanick said, "Now, go stir your beans, I have papers to file. I guess. Jeffery wasn't all that clear on what my job was, he just told me not to wear a bra,"  
"Too much info," Stafford groaned.  
"And get a hairnet!" Yanick told him.

Jeffery reported in to the Chief Science Officer of the Investigator, a small, jittery man with watery eyes and a balding head. He was quickly ordered to complete any necessary maintenance on the sonar systems and dismissed.  
Something about what Chief Scientist Braniux had said was nagging at Jeffery. Sure, there was the whole confusion on why the ship had a Chief Science Officer, a Chief Scientist, a Deputy Science Master and so forth, but it was the way he had phrased something.  
Using the primitive tools he had and thankful that he still had his tricorder, complete with a '21st Century Technology for Dummies' data chip scavenged from the escape pod, Jeffery quickly located and repaired several minor flaws in the primitive sonar systems. He resisted the urge to up their effective range by 50%, grateful that so much time on Silverado had taught him to respect older technology.  
What had Braniux said? 'Not only would we have an answer to the question of whether there is life on other worlds, but perhaps an explanation for our own world as well!' But that would imply that there was some great mystery to the planet, something that was puzzling the Delori. But that was absurd! Any other species, by their 21st Century equivalent age, had mapped their planet, analyzed the geography, established global communications and so forth. Most had landed on their moons as well, if their planets had moons, and Deloria 2 had 2 moons.  
Jeffery shot up so fast he bounced his head off a pipe. Cursing and swearing, he ran off to find Stafford, Yanick and a map.

"Would you like beans with that?" Stafford asked.  
"No," the sailor grabbed his tray of overcooked meat and vegetables and moved off.  
"Would you like beans with that?" Stafford asked.  
"No," the next sailor did likewise.  
"You're doing a great job, Creth," his supervisor, a woman by the name of Mandi called.  
"Thanks," Stafford said blandly, turning to the next crewman, "Would you like beans with that?"  
"Yes,"  
"Really?" Stafford's gaze shot up in surprise.  
"No, not really," the sailor winked at him, "But you've got nice eyes,"  
"Oh geez," Stafford groaned, 'I've been in the navy less than a day and it already starts,"  
"No, silly!" Yanick pulled off her uniform hat.  
"Oh! Trish!" Stafford gave a sigh of relief, "It's you!"  
"Yeah," Trish held her tray out so Stafford could dish out some purple Delori beans, "It's been a busy day! We're leaving dock in an hour, and I had, like, a ton of papers to file! All these scientists kept calling me over to get stuff, then they'd drop it on the floor," she dropped a fork, as if to demonstrate, "And I'd have to pick it up," she likewise bent down to demonstrate, flashing cleavage in Stafford's direction and her firm rear towards the galley. Several sailors suddenly forgot about the meals they were eating.  
"Can't imagine why they'd make you do that," Stafford said, his throat suddenly dry.  
"Guys! Guys!" Jeffery came bursting into the mess hall, his arms full of rolled up maps and charts, "We have to talk, like now!"  
"I'm working right now," Stafford said, stirring the large pot, "I have beans to serve. Y'know, since that was the most important job on this ship you felt I was qualified for!"  
"Give it a rest!" Jeffery hissed, "This is important!" he poked his head into the kitchen, "Hey! Ma'am! Ah need some muscle to carry a, er, signal amplification unit. Can Ah borrow this guy?"  
"Sure," Mandi called, "Lunch rush is pretty much over,"  
"You think I have muscle?" Stafford asked, flattered, as Jeffery led them out of the galley.  
"Don't let it get to yer head,"

Jeffery led them to an empty area of the main deck near the bow of the ship. The Investigator was nearly 300 feet long with two full decks devoted to research facilities. Crew quarters, amenities, administration offices and mechanical spaces filled the remaining spaces. The ship used an unusual cycloid propulsion system consisting of two egg-beater shaped propellers pointing straight down; one at the bow and one at the stern. Stafford couldn't understand how the hell the ship was supposed to move if it had kitchen appliance-like pieces on the outside, but Jeffery assured Stafford that such a system had been used successfully on Earth in the 20th Century and that a ship equipped with such a system had actually found the wreck of the RMS Titanic.  
After spending another 15 minutes explaining to Yanick and Stafford what the Titanic was and why it was so special, Jeffery got to the point.  
"Look at this," he said, spreading a map out on the deck, Yanick and Stafford each grabbing a corner to help keep it from blowing away in the wind. The large bay doors of the research station had been opened in preparation for the Investigator's departure, letting in a healthy breeze.  
"Looks like a map of this country," Stafford said, "What's it called? Deifendarun?"  
"Dufarndan," Jeffery said, "And that's what Ah thought too. Just a simple map of their country,"  
"So what's the deal?" Yanick asked.  
"Look," Jeffery started pointed at the borders, "What do ye see outside of Dufarndan?"  
Stafford looked at the map for a few moments.  
"Nothing," he said, "Other than Dufarndan and part of the Central Sea, it's blank,"  
"Exactly!" Jeffery said triumphantly, shaking a fist in the air, then reaching down to catch his corner of the map as the wind took it.  
"But Simon," Stafford said, "So what? If it's just a map of their country, why would they even bother putting anything else on?"  
"Look," Jeffery pointed at the legend in the corner of the map, then at the tricorder that held the translation of the Delori text.  
It read:  
WORLD ATLAS

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly:

Week Two:

"Are they still on our tail?" Lieutenant David Stern asked, standing next to Ensign Marsden as he scanned the water behind them with an eyeglass.  
"I'm not sure," Marsden said, "I've been looking through this stupid thing for 15 minutes, but it really doesn't seem to be making things any bigger,"  
Ensign Rengs, the only member of the team with any sailing experience, gave an exasperated sigh as he yanked the eyeglass out of Marsden's hands, flipped it around, and handed it back to him.  
"Oh! Hey!" Marsden exclaimed, "Now it works! Wow, that's cool! It's like electro-binoculars, only with two pieces of glass!"  
"Fantastic,' Stern said dryly, "Now, are we still being followed by those other ships?"  
"Um, I don't think so," Marsden reported.  
"Good," Stern gave a sigh of relief.  
The Hazardous Team had been aboard the primitive sailing vessel for over 5 days. They'd christened the ship the Hazardous Team Vessel Water-Hazard. The HTV Water-Hazard had clearly been a private vessel belonging to a member of Jurcun high society. The galley was well stocked, the ship was fast (for an ancient vessel made of wood and animal skins) and the tricorder had translated the Delori script on the side to 'Finarden's Frolic'. Who Finarden was and whether he ever did frolic aboard it were unknown, but after 5 days of hard sailing they'd finally managed to put decent distance between themselves and their pursuers. Very likely, Rengs had suggested, their Jurcun pursuers didn't want to chase them all the way downstream due to the difficulties in sailing back upstream to return home. Or they might have just been afraid that Dar'ugal would use his godly powers to punish them.  
The Water-Hazard wasn't a very big ship. The main deck and quarterdeck were the only open spaces on the ship, the cramped living quarters, galley and cargo hold taking up a single deck below them. The ship was long and narrow, as was the standard in ancient times. No doubt they could have picked up much greater speeds with a dozen or so slaves to man the oars stored neatly on the main deck, but as it was they were relying on the three sails. Fortunately, their pursuers hadn't had the time to staff their oars before giving chase.  
"Well, if that's that, then I'm going to take a nap," Rengs said. Being the only one of the 6 of them to know anything about sailing, he'd been in heavy demand, barely getting any sleep.  
"Hey, before you go," Stern said, "Could you tell us how to get Simmons untangled from that rope without collapsing the mainsail?  
"How do you keep getting caught up in there anyway?" Rengs asked angrily, as Simmons swung gently in the breeze.  
"I don't know," Simmons said, "It just always seems to catch my ankle. URK! Um, could you get me down? Swinging upside down is making…me…seasick…BLAHHH!"  
"Evasive!" Stern cried as he and Rengs dodged to the side.

"All hands on deck!" Stern shouted, jolting Rengs out of his snooze.  
Rengs climbed out of his tiny hammock and pulled himself up the narrow flight of stairs leading to the main deck.  
"Whazgoinon?" he groaned.  
"We've got another ship coming up, fast," Stern reported. Dar'ugal was hauling on ropes, trying to adjust the sails. Kreklor, having recovered from his 'demonic torture' (what he considered a day spa) was trying to figure out how to construct a weapon, any weapon for their unarmed vessel.  
"What do you make of it?" Rengs asked.  
"See for yourself," Stern handed him the eyeglass.  
"In the name of the Prophets…" Rengs breathed.  
The ship wasn't the same design as theirs, or for that matter the same design as any of the other vessels they'd seen in the Jurcun docks. It was a larger ship with large cylinders on each side. The cylinders were spinning, and seemed to be providing a means of propulsion.  
"A steamship?" Rengs asked.  
"Uh-huh," Marsden said, "And look closer,"  
Squinted, Rengs did as he was told.  
The ship seemed to waver, flickering and fading, almost as though a heavy fog was drifting over it. No, not fog. More like oil floating on water…  
Marsden was tapping on his tricorder.  
"I couldn't understand why," he said, "But my tricorder wouldn't read anything on the far shore of the river. I thought it was more temporal interference,"  
"And that's where that ship's coming from?" Stern demanded.  
"That, and according to the tricorder, two more," Marsden reported.  
Rengs pulled the eyeglass back to his face.  
"I don't see any more," he reported.  
Marsden frowned and started tapping on his tricorder.  
"That other ship," he said, "Is slightly out of temporal sync with us. The other two even more so," he started, "The other two ships are gone,"  
"Gone?" Stern asked.  
"Gone," Marsden reported.  
"Why would they just vanish?" Stern wanted to know.  
"Why didn't this one vanish?" Rengs demanded.  
"I don't know," Marsden said, "But we will soon. We're going to intercept each other in about 10 minutes,"

"KREKLOR!" Stern shouted, "How are those weapons coming along?"  
Kreklor was sitting on the deck, a decorative metal vase, some cooking utensils and a small quantity of kerosene arrayed before him.  
"Not good," he growled, "Our phasers still have some charge, however,"  
"Yeah," Stern said, "But once they're gone, they're gone. Nevermind that whole Prime Directive thing,"  
"I think we've screwed the Prime Directive pretty good on this trip," Simmons pointed out as he followed Rengs' sailing instructions.  
Their course and the steamship's were converging, the two vessels both seem intent on following the river downstream, both trying to stay in the center, as far from either shore as possible. But the steamship hadn't made any overt moves against them, and so they had followed suite, simply acting as though they hadn't seen the other vessel. Still, with the two ships now less than 200 meters apart (and closing) it was getting harder to do.  
Marsden's gaze was still alternating between the eyeglass and the tricorder. He jerked in surprise, then started shouting and waving frantically for Stern.  
Stern quickly hurried over and looked in the eyeglass and nearly dropped the ballast bag he'd been carrying.  
"RENGS!" he screamed, "GET US CLOSER!"  
"Closer?" Rengs asked in surprise.  
"Look!" Stern gestured.  
Standing on the deck of the steamship, looking back at them with a look of total shock, a pair of bulky binoculars hanging from a leather strap, was Ensign Travis Pye.

Pye was quickly joined on the steamship deck by Ensign Craig Burke, Ensign Day and Lieutenant Curt Quintaine. The steamship was now mere meters away from the Water-Hazard, but it still shimmered with the oil-on-water sheen that seemed so common on the planet. The two crews tried shouting at each other, but their words were faint and washed out, barely audible.  
"What's wrong with them?" Stern demanded, after another 10 minute shouting session.  
"Near as I can tell," Marsden said, "they're just out of temporal sync with us,"  
"Um, OK, so how do we fix it?"  
Marsden shrugged.  
"Well, we better try something,"

"What're they doing?" Ensign Pye asked Lieutenant Quintane, the night-shift commanding officer.  
"It looks like they're tying a rope to Lieutenant Stern," Quintane said. It was a little hard to see the other vessel clearly, and why the Hazardous Team was aboard such an ancient piece of junk he really didn't understand, but the other ship was blurring and fading out of view, like a badly tuned TV picture.  
After landing their escape pods in the middle of a farm, the night shift crew had located the beacon from Silverado's wreckage fairly quickly, once Ensign Burke's tricorder had been sufficiently cleared of pornography to be useful to them as a sensor device. Having launched their escape pod from the lower side of the saucer before the ship had split apart, they had no idea it was the saucer wreckage they were chasing after and not the entire ship, nor did they have the faintest clue as to how many other might has escaped, if any, or what might have happened to the alien ship attacking Silverado.  
They'd stolen the steamship from a rather shady gentleman offering tours of the river, and had been very surprised to see an old-style sailing ship floating down the river, looking like something out of an ancient history text.  
Stern, the rope having been affixed firmly around his waist, was now leaning far out over the railing of his ship, reaching towards Pye and the others.  
"I think he wants to hold our hands," Burke said nervously.  
"I've heard he swings both ways," Pye said.  
"Hey, ain't nobody gonna be holding my hands," Day said, "I had to take-"  
"An Oath of Celibacy," Quintaine groaned, "Yes we know. Personally, I think that whole thing about Deltan sex being too mind-blowing for humans to survive was a load of horse sh*t!"  
Stern was now reaching frantically for them, Kreklor and Dar-ugal had braced themselves against the railing to keep the rope taught. As they watched, one of Stern's arms brushed against the railing of the steamship.  
And went right through it.  
"What the…"  
"Maybe they're dead?"  
"Maybe WE'RE dead?"  
"Look, somebody just grab his hand already!" Quintane snapped, annoyed.  
Nobody moved.  
"Fine," Quintane grumbled. He reached out and clasped Stern's right hand.  
The effect was immediately.  
Both ships shuddered, a wave of icy cold running through both crews as the ships rippled, a crackle of energy fading as soon as it started.  
"Hey guys," Stern said. His voice was clear, his face clearly visible. Both ships, in fact, had lost the oily water sheen as they sailed next to each other, clear as daylight, down the river.

They immediately abandoned the Water-Hazard, ferrying what supplies they could over to the steamship, which had been dubbed the Sleepy Sparrow. Grumbling that the night shift had no taste in ship names whatsoever, Stern stood on the aft deck with the rest of the Hazardous Team, watching as the Water-Hazard faded into the distance.  
"She was a good ship," Marsden sniffed.  
"She was a piece of crap," Simmons said.  
"She was," Marsden said, "But she was a good piece of crap,"  
"We have our own ship waiting for us," Stern pointed, "What's left of it, anyway,"  
"How long until we get to the Central Sea?" Simmons wanted to know.  
"Another week," Rengs advised him, "This ship is faster, but it's a long ways to go,"  
"I wonder who else we'll meet along the way," Stern mused.

Convergence

Week 4:

BLAHHHH!  
"You really need to stop that," Jall said, looking both ways to see if any of the other merchant crew was paying attention to them.  
HURK! BLAAAAHHHH!  
"Careful, you're gonna get that on the side of the ship," Jall said.  
"I just really don't care right now," Wowryk gasped, wiping her mouth, "Goodness, what I wouldn't give for some mouthwash,"  
"Y'know, I figured you'd be OK on the sea," Jall said, "Y'know, cuz your favorite literary character used to walk on water and all,"  
"LITERARY CHARACTER?"  
"Oh, bad choice of words," Jall winced, ducking and throwing his arms up to ward off the barrage of blows Wowryk was aiming at his head.  
"Hey, ow," he cursed, hurrying away from her, "At least you're not sea-sick anymore! HEY! OWWW! Quit it!"

After being told (and not too gently) by the First Mate to get back to work, Wowryk and Jall joined T'Parief below decks, hauling supplies out of the cargo hold and into the galley.  
"So," Jall said, "Have you, by chance, given any thought as to how exactly we should be getting to the wreckage? Or how we might have to get to the ocean floor to recover anything?"  
Having bounced their escape pod off the lower side of Lord Stalart's ship, Jall, Wowryk and T'Parief still had no idea what they were really looking for, other than that there was a distress beacon for them to follow.  
"Why is it my job to think of this?" Wowryk demanded.  
"Well, it was you that decided we had to sign on as crew on this ship rather than stealing it,"  
"And believe me, my breasts have been suffering for that decision," Wowryk complained, adjusting her shirt, "Why is it that primitive cultures almost never allow women on ships or submarines?"  
"Something about providing too much of a distraction," Jall said, "Not that I'd care,"  
"No, I imagine you're having a delightful time, aren't you?" Wowryk snapped, "Pervert,"  
"Sorry honey, I do have some standards," Jall scrunched up his face, "And stinky pirates don't do it for me,"  
"How," T'Parief grunted, still hidden under his cloak, "Are to we going to find the wreckage? We're following the coastline at the moment, but if we do not head out to see soon, we will be moving further from the distress call, not closer,"  
"So how do we convince a ship full of marine merchants to just crank the wheel over and head out to sea?" Jall asked.  
"You're the Operations Officer," Wowryk said, "Operate something,"  
"You're the Doctor," Jall shot back, "Doesn't that mean you should be operating ON something?"  
"I'll operate on you!" Wowryk seethed, "I know just the operation, too!"  
"It is somewhat surprising," T'Parief interrupted, "But it appears I am the only one with a plan,"  
"Why is that surprising?" Wowryk asked, giving Jall a look of moderately deep loathing.  
"Because, though Jall is incompetent, I had thought you would have thought of something, Doctor,"  
Wowryk's eyebrows rose.  
"Why, thank you," she said, flattered. Then she frowned again, "Hey, wait a minute…"  
"What's the plan?" Jall asked, sounding more bored than anything.  
"This vessel is navigated via astronomy and magnetic sensors, correct?" T'Parief asked.  
"If by 'astronomy' you mean looking at the stars and by 'magnetic sensors' you mean a 30 year-old compass, then yes," Jall said, shrugging, "It's really not advanced technology. It's a wonder they can even stay on one course,"  
T'Parief let a low rattle grow in his chest as he stared at Jall in displeasure.  
"Ohhh," Jall said, slapping a hand to his forehead.  
"What?" Wowryk asked.  
"You're so smart, according to him," Jall flicked a finger in T'Parief's general direction, "You figure it out,"  
"Sure," Wowryk tossed her head, "As soon as you tell me the steps for beginning a neural pathway reconstruction procedure,"  
Jall looked at her for a moment.  
"You remove the skull?" he asked.  
"No," Wowryk said.  
"Um, calibrate the neural scanners?"  
"Warmer," Wowryk tilted her head in acknowledgement.  
"Oh!" Jall snapped his fingers, "Inject the patient with a minor radioactive isotope to better trace the neural structure!"  
"No, you don't do that until-"  
"FOR GLARNX SAKE!" T'Parief cursed, "If the ship has a compass, we can lead it off course by creating magnetic resonances with a tricorder!"  
"Oh," Wowryk nodded knowingly, "I see. But wouldn't that be unethical?"  
Jall and T'Parief exchanged glances.  
"I do not think so," T'Parief said sharply before Jall could say something rude, "We will lead them off course, jump ship when we reach our destination and let them go on their way. At worst, they lose a few days travel,"  
"At worst," Jall muttered, "there's nothing for us to land on when we jump ship,"  
"Details," T'Parief dismissed.

"We're arriving at the splashdown site," Hur Genarda, Captain of the Investigator announced. They'd be traveling at full speed from port, following the coastline of Dufarndan. They were coming up on what Jeffery was sure was the edge of the known map when they'd veered straight out to sea. Considering the speed the ship had been moving at and the number of days traveled, they must have covered several hundred kilometers.  
Simon Jeffery, AKA Microl Zetik, sat on the command deck, monitoring one of the sonar stations. It was such a primitive system; nothing but a round screen with dots indication sonar contacts. And the damned thing would only show him if there was another object in the water, it wouldn't tell him hull composition, energy readings, life signs or anything along those lines. But it should at least tell him if they're about the crash into anything.  
The sonar he really wanted to be watching was up on the Research Deck, scanning the ocean floor for the smallest sign of anything unusual. They'd deployed an underwater 'probe' of sorts, really just a sled loaded up with sonar emitters and video cameras and pulled behind the Investigator (at a depth of 1500 feet) by a heavy cable. On the Research Deck, an entire crew of operators sat watching video screens and sonar readings, looking for the smallest piece of wreckage.  
"Sandwhich?"  
"Uh, no thanks," Jeffery said, dismissing the crewman wandering around the command deck with a tray.  
"Eat the f**king sandwhich, Jeffery!"  
Jeffery's head snapped around. Stafford was standing there, wearing his crewman's uniform and carrying a large tray of purple meat sandwhiches.  
"Chris! I mean, Creth!" He worked to contain his surprise and tried to sound casual, "Uh, yer right, Ah really could use a bite,"  
"Well eat quickly," Stafford seethed, "And tell me what the hell we're doing?"  
"We're arriving at the crash site," Jeffery said quietly, trying not to attract attention, "They're good; we're only about 15 kilometers from the source of the distress beacon,"  
"Right, and you didn't think that as Captain you should maybe tell me that?"  
"It'd look a bit suspicious if Ah left the command deck to talk to ye, wouldn't it?"  
"You still haven't explained that map to me!" Stafford hissed.  
"Ah can't explain it!" Jeffery said, "If Ah could, Ah would!"  
Jeffery actually had a few suspicions about the map, but nothing that he was sure of. What really made him take a closer look at it was the realization that the Delori, unlike every other 21st-Century equivalent culture, had no satellites in orbit of their planet whatsoever. The temporal interference prevented radio transmission, scattered microwave beams and blocked infrared signals. Which meant that, unlike other cultures at this stage of development, the only possible way for the Delori to map their planet was to actually travel the entire thing, somewhat like the early explorers of Earth. There would be no satellite mapping, no GPS systems, no orbital photographs.  
But, as they'd plainly seen, the only part of the planet they'd been able to map was their single continent. Which didn't make sense, and where Jeffery's theories likewise ceased to make sense. What was stopping them from exploring the rest?  
"Um, Sim-, I mean, 'Microl'," Stafford was looking out the front windows of the ship, "Isn't it your job to help steer us around things like that?"  
"Huh?" Jeffery looked as his sonar screen. There was nothing there. He looked out the window.  
"What in bloody blazes?"  
There, in the distance, was an ancient sailing ship, looking to be from around the 16th century. The three masts each held billowing sails and the hull appeared to be made of wood. The ship was washed out, flickering slightly. Jeffery found himself wondering just how people could be brave enough to set sail in something made of wood!  
"Um, Captain,"  
"What?" Stafford asked.  
"What?" Captain Gurnarda asked.  
"Uh, do you see that?"  
Gurnarda looked out the windows.  
"See what?" he asked irritably.  
"A ship…" Jeffery trailed off.  
"I see nothing," Gurnarda waved his hand, "Enough wasted time! Helm! Come about 230, ahead slow. Notify the Research Deck of the course change and that we are beginning our search pattern..."  
He went on like that for some time. Stafford, unnoticed in the commotion, took a seat at the empty station next to Jeffery.  
"I saw it too," Stafford muttered, "And I'll bet you 50 credits Yanick would if she were here,"  
"Do ye have yer tricroder," Jeffery muttered.  
"Yeah, don't you?"  
"Are ye daft?" Jeffery shoot his head in disbelieve, "Runnin' a strange gadget on the command deck of a military research vessel? They'd go ape sh*t!"  
"Ape wha?"  
"Just go below decks and scan!" Jeffery hissed.  
"Fine," Stafford stood angrily, "Commander!"

"So, see anything interesting?" Stern asked casually, standing on the deck of the steamship. The old girl was running low on fuel, even after they'd stopped at the coast and filled up, bartering whatever they found in the cabins and cargo hold for fuel, and if they didn't find the saucer wreckage soon, they'd be dead in the water. Stern frowned to himself, realizing this was the first time he'd ever meant that literally.  
"Nope," Marsden said, holding the antique eyeglass he'd taken from the Water-Hazard.  
"You've got the right end to your face, right?"  
"Uh-huh,"  
There were a few moments of silence.  
"You know, those binoculars Pye had are about a thousand years newer than that thing-"  
"Anybody want a brinket?" Burke asked, walking around the corner of the upper walkway, carrying a tray of steaming…something, "they might have gotten a little wet when I went past the water wheel, but they're still packed with Delori goodness!"  
"Delori goodness my ass," Simmons muttered, coming up from below deck, "this planet wouldn't know good cooking if it fell from the sky,"  
"We did fall from the sky," Burke pointed out, "And I cooked it. Eat it."  
"Right, right," Stern sighed. Two weeks of sailing combined with Delori food were really not settling well with his stomach.  
"Sooo," Burke said, turning to Quintaine as he held the ship's wheel, "We've been out here for quite a while, huh?"  
"Yup," Quintaine agreed.  
"Pretty boring," Burke went on.  
"Sure is," Simmons grunted, "Even those Delori playing cards were no fun. What am I supposed to do with a card that has an octopus on it?"  
"It was a squid," Marsden corrected him.  
"Whatever," Burke went on, "No drinks, no women, no bars,"  
"We know, we know," Quintaine said, getting irritated.  
"Well," Burke said, patting his shoulder as he prepared to leave, "I bet you wish you hadn't made me delete all that porno now!"  
Quintaine gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes.  
"Aren't you glad you have more of us to deal with now?" Simmons asked sweetly.  
"I really, really don't want Stafford's job if he's dead," Quintaine sighed.

"PSSST! Yanick!" Stafford had poked his head into the nearly empty administration office on the Research Deck, "C'mere!"  
"Oh, hiya 'Creth'," Yanick said, waving happily, "What's up?"  
"C'mon," Stafford grabbed her by the arm and led her to a deserted corridor, "I need to take some tricorder readings,"  
"Uh, and you need me here for that why?" Yanick asked.  
"So we can pretend to make out if anybody catches us," Stafford said, flipping open his tricorder and scanning the vicinity of the Investigator.  
"Excuse me?" Yanick asked, annoyed, "Do I look like a cheap whore to you?"  
"Uh," Stafford swallowed, "Well, no, but I-"  
"So you thought I'd just make out with you on command, CAPTAIN?" Yanick's hands were on her hips now, her lips set in an angry pout.  
"Uh, I really need to do these scans," Stafford said, tapping at the tricorder. He quickly detected the ship he and Jeffery had seen, noticing that it was out of temporal sync. For that matter, he and Yanick were a bit out of sync with the Investigator, but barely. Probably explained why they could see the other ship but the Investigator's crew couldn't. There was something else too, even further out of sync than the sailing ship.  
"Really," Yanick was still going on, "the nerve of you men! Thinking you've all this male superpower to instantly attract any woman you want, and that the chicks are nothing but…"  
She suddenly jumped on Stafford, pushing her lips to his and wrapping her arms around him.  
"Get a room you two," muttered the passing researcher Yanick had spotted.  
Once he was was out of sight, she immediately let him go and resumed her tirade.  
"Maybe Wowryk's right about you stupid, horny men…"  
"Uh," Stafford's eyes were wide open, his mouth hung open and his brain locked in 'overdrive', "Um,"  
"Finish scanning!" Yanick snapped.  
"Right, right," Stafford muttered.  
He was pretty much finished with the sailing ship, that mystery solved. But there was that other reading…something further away.  
Something big.  
"We need to talk to Jeffery," he said, leaving Yanick in the corridor as he bolted for the command deck.  
"Men," Yanick muttered.

"Uh, Jall," Wowryk said, standing near the front of the merchant vessal.  
"What?" Jall hissed.  
"Look," she pointed.  
"Oh shit," Jall groaned.  
A huge watercraft was bearing down on them. It was several times the size of their ship and appeared to be constructed of metal painted grey rather than wood. They could see antennae's and radar dishes attached to the superstructure, along with pane after pane of glass windows.  
"That," Jall said angrily, "Is not a medieval sailing ship!"  
"I don't think that's the issue right now!" Wowryk cried, ducking down below the railing and covering her head.  
"Why couldn't we get a better ship?" Jall went on, gesturing widely. T'Parief and Wowryk each grabbed an arm and hauled him to the deck, just as the Investigator hit their fragile ship dead center.

Stafford reached the command deck just in time to see the sailing ship disappear from view under the Investigator's bow. He cursed and grabbed onto Jeffery's console while Jeffery braced himself on his chair. The captain and crew of the Investigator continued to behave as though nothing was happening.  
Then, for a split second, Stafford was aware of a strange double-vision. He was standing on the command deck of the Investigator, but at the same time he was standing in the crow's nest of the sailing ship. He could see the merchant sailors down on the main deck, carrying on like nothing was happening. He could see three forms near the front of the ship; one covered in a hooded cloak and the other two in shabby cloths. The two had skin that was more pink than the standard Delori hue, but before he could look closer the image was gone.  
"What the…" Jeffery asked.  
"That ship's out of temporal sync with us," Stafford said quickly, "And we're just a little bit out of sync with the Investigator. That's why we can see both ships!"  
"But why?" Jeffery wanted to know.  
"F**ked if I know," Stafford said, "But there's more," he pulled Jeffery, protesting, away from his station to the port side of the bridge.  
"Oh my God," Jeffery breathed.

"AAAHHHHH!" Wowryk screamed, having just taken an express tour of the Investigator's engine room and cargo holds.  
"Well, that was messed up," Jall said, tapping his tricorder and coming to the same conclusions as Stafford.  
"I do not feel well," T'Parief said calmly.  
"Maybe that will cheer you up," Jall said, grinning and pointing dead ahead.

"Oh, that's going to hurt," Marsden winced, staring through the eyeglass.  
"What? What's happening?" Stern asked.  
"You know," Rengs Aris mused, rubbing his epinasal ridges, "I understand now why humans install viewscreens on their ships,"  
"Give me those," Stern snapped, grabbing the binoculars from Pye. Pye chocked, the carry strap still wrapped around his neck.  
Stern watched as the two ships, the huge, grey vessel and the tiny wooden sailing ship came closer and closer together. The sailing ship was heading straight for the source of the distress call, the larger vessel cutting across its path. Both ships appeared washed out and faded, the same way the steamship had first appeared to the Hazardous Team. Even as he watched, they collided, the sailing vessel appearing to pass through the larger ship and emerging from the stern.  
"That was weird," Marsden said.  
"It was," Stern said, grinning.  
"I said it was weird," Marsden said, "But I don't think it was funny,"  
"It wasn't," Stern said, handing him the more powerful binoculars, "Take a look, just past the sailing ship,"  
"Is that…" Marsden frowned, "No way…"

"The saucer!" Wowryk gasped, staring straight ahead.

"Silverado!" Jeffery exclaimed, eyes wide in shock, a few members of the Investigator's crew staring at him.  
Silverado's saucer section sat in the ocean, less than a kilometer off the Investigator's port beam. The sailing ship was heading straight for it, as was an antique steamship that was just becoming visible to starboard. To Stafford, there was nothing more beautiful than the steel-grey hull of his ship shining in the afternoon sun. From his angle he could see the exterior of the bridge dome, the dark windows of his ready room gleaming in the light.  
The saucer was sitting low in the water; only 6 or 7 decks were visible. None of the crew could see if there was any damage below the 'waterline', but the bridge, the upper superstructure and the visible portion of the upper hull, while somewhat scorched from the heat of re-entry, appeared to be intact. Even through the faded, oil-on-water effect of the temporal anomalies they could still make out the ship's name, USS SILVERADO, in dark blue letters on the upper hull.  
Stafford and Jeffery bolted for the door, Jeffery throwing off some excuse about being seasick, as the Investigator's crew continued on their search, oblivious to the fact  
that the object of their search was sitting right beside them,

"So, how do we get aboard?" Wowryk asked.  
"Well, we could jump out and swim," Jall shrugged.  
"We could," T'Parief said, "But I would prefer not to,"  
"What, scared of a little water?" Jall taunted, his relief at finding at least part of the ship intact an emotion shared by both of his companions.  
"No," T'Parief said patiently, "But I do not wish to be the target of spears or harpoons if these people," he gestured at the sailors, "see me without this cloak on,"  
"We better make up our minds soon," Wowryk said, slightly fearful, "we're going to crash!"

Yanick, Stafford and Jeffery raced to the aft of the Investigator where 3 small, runabout-type watercraft hung suspending from davits. They jumped in the first one they saw, hitting the releases and letting the craft drop to the water, spinning around as it was caught in the Investigator's wake. A shout from up above told them they'd been spotted, and would soon be perused.  
Jeffery had quickly located the pilot seat and had started the engine before Stafford pushed him away, grabbing the wheel. Jeffery pushed back, Stafford gave Jeffery a shove. Soon the two of them were slapping each other away from the wheel. Stafford, his size affording him temporary victory, jumped into the seat, grabbed the wheel with one hand and slammed the throttle all the way forward with the other. The bow of the boat shot up, the boat tilting to nearly a 90-degree angle. Stafford barely managed to pull the throttle back before he fell to the aft of the boat, landing in a tangle with Jeffery and Yanick.  
"Don't either of you know to drive a boat?" Yanick squealed.  
"How hard can it be?" Stafford said, moving back towards the wheel. Yanick beat him to it, giving him a look that clearly said he'd blown his chance to drive.  
Yanick eased down gently on the throttle until the boat had picked up enough speed that the hull was sliding over the surface of the water (not through it), then calmly pushed the throttle all the way forward. (If you're curious, this is called 'planing'. Boats handle very differently on the water than they do in it.)  
The alien ocean spraying around them and Yanick's long hair blowing in the wind, they were so totally intent on their goal that they didn't notice when the Investigator disappeared.

"What the hell?" Marsden asked.  
Before their eyes, they'd seen the small boat leave the larger ship, heading for the saucer. But less than 10 seconds after the boat had detached, the Investigator stretched like a rubber band, snapping back along its original course and vanishing from view.  
Stern, Marsden, Rengs and Burke all looked at each other blankly.  
"What was THAT?"

"AHHHH!" Wowryk screamed again.  
The trio on the merchant vessel braced themselves as their ship hit the saucer, the prow of the ship spearing into the 'A' in Silverado.  
And, of course, passing right through it.  
Wowryk, Jall and T'Parief however, did not.  
There was a sudden pain, a feeling of icy cold, then the sensation of the warm hull metal under them. The trio looked around in confusion as the merchant vessel faded, even as the saucer became perfectly solid. The aft portions of the sailing ship passed through them, the same way the Investigator had. Within seconds, the sailing ship had suddenly stretched like toffee and vanished.

Within minutes, they were reunited.  
Standing on the hull of the saucer, Yanick and T'Parief still hugging even as the rest of the crew exchanged handshakes, smiles, welcomes and congratulations, Wowryk and Jeffery surrendered to a single, brief hug, and Stafford grinning like an idiot, almost giddy as he listened to Stern talking about how the Delori had mistaken Kreklor for a demon. None of them paid any attention to the sudden absence of the vessels and people that had (unwittingly) brought them together, though Marsden informed them that his tricorder was picking up more 'temporal synchronization anomalies' heading directly for them; no doubt other crewmembers who had picked up the distress call and were heading home.  
"So," Jall said, one arm around Yanick, the other around a very uncomfortable looking Ensign Rengs, "Anybody know how we're supposed to get in?"


	11. Museum Piece - Part One

Star Traks: Silverado

3.11 "Museum Piece, Part One"

Final Departure:

"Engines are still offline!" Yanick cried as Silverado fell towards the surface of Deloria 2, held in a tractor beam by Lord Stalart's ship.  
"Captain," Noonan said softly.  
"Fire phasers! Disable their tractor beam generator!" Stafford ordered furiously, ignoring Noonan and gripping his armrests until his knuckles turned white.  
"We're entering the outer atmosphere," Jall reported. Glancing at the clear dome over the command chairs, Noonan could see the faintest reddening as friction began to build with the planet's atmosphere. The ship was going down; nothing was going to stop them at this point.  
"Chris," he said, gripping Stafford by the arm and pulling him face to face, "It's time to abandon ship,"  
"NO!" Stafford snapped, "This is MY ship and we are NOT letting her go down!"  
"Weapons are offline," T'Parief reported.  
"Don't make me force you," Noonan said softly.  
"You wouldn't DARE!" Stafford seethed.  
Noonan looked around. Stafford followed his gaze to T'Parief, Yanick, Wowryk and Jall. His officers, the people who would go down with the ship if he didn't order them to safety. What mattered to him more…saving his ship, or saving his crew?  
"All hands," he jammed a finger in the all-call button on his chair, opening the shipwide emergency broadcast channel, "Abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship."  
Releasing the all-call, Stafford got to his feet, nearly losing his balance as the ship shook.  
"There," he said, quietly but angrily, "We've given up on her. Are you happy now?"  
"Hardly," Noonan said not leaving his chair. Behind him he could here Jall trying to convince Jeffery to leave as the latter tried to save Fifebee from the computer core, the malfunctions preventing him from transferring her program to a portable data module.  
"But we are saving the crew," Noonan said.  
"Yes," Stafford said turning to leave, "We are,"  
He took two steps towards to the forward turbolift before realizing that Noonan hadn't moved.  
"Are you coming?" he asked.  
"No," Noonan said calmly, "I'm staying here,"  
Stafford rushed back to Noonan's said and kept his voice very low.  
"Are you a f**king idiot?" he snapped, "After telling me we had to get everybody out 'for the good of the crew', you're telling me you're going to sit here and commit suicide?"  
"Of course not," Noonan said, "And there isn't time to explain. Go. Now."  
"I'm not leaving you here!" Stafford said, "And don't try your little mind trick on me! I know how hypnotism works, you can't hypnotize an intelligent strong-willed subject-"  
"You will leave now," Noonan said, reaching out with his preternatural powers, quite difference from hypnosis, "I'll manage. Go."  
Stafford turned and left without another word. As the other officers hurried down the emergency ladder to the lifeboats below, Noonan found himself alone on the bridge.  
There wasn't time to explain it to Stafford, but Noonan quite simply felt that the chances of saving the ship were slim to none. Closer to none than slim, actually. And there was no way he was going to risk the lives of the mortal crew, even if it was a reduced skeleton crew.  
Leaving his chair in the center of the bridge, Noonan moved forward and took Yanick's seat at the helm. The chair was set so high he had to fumble beneath it for the adjustment lever before he could comfortably operate the helm console, but once in position his fingers danced over the control pads with impossible speed.  
He tried redirecting power flow to the impulse engines. No response. He tried establishing a warp field, risky in an atmosphere but possible. Nothing. The computer was still in a state of shock over the sudden disconnection of Sylvia and systems were continuing to switch on and off at random, functions were scrambled and incoming data was spotty at best.  
He looked up at the flickering main screen, where the view of the planet was largely blocked by Stalart's ship and the glowing blue tractor beam. He could see one escape pod as it left the ship and fell towards the planet.  
The ship bucked like a wounded animal, sending Noonan's face slamming into the helm panel, his nose breaking. Even as the wound quickly healed, he was scrambling to find out what had happened as he wiped the blood from the panel and saw more escape pods falling to the planet, one of the damaged and spinning out of control.  
All around him, the flicking control panels dimmed, then a stream of data started pouring into the helm console. Astonished by his sudden good luck, Noonan quickly found two things:  
First, The stardrive section was gone. The computer malfunctions had triggered an emergency saucer separation, detaching the saucer from the rest of the ship. Second, the shock of being abruptly disconnected from the backup computer core in the secondary hull had proven to be too much for the traumatized main computer. It had completely crashed, leaving only the backup systems.  
Again, Noonan's fingers moved with unnatural speed over the controls as he quickly tried to bring the backup systems into some semblance of functionality. Without the interference from the main computer, he had much greater success. As the sensors came back up he saw the alien ship still on the screen, clearly damaged. Checking their altitude above the planet, Noonan realized that Stalart's ship was now incapable of escaping from the crash trajectory it had put Silverado on.  
The hull temperature started to drop as Noonan restored partial shielding to the forward hull, and he activated as many thrusters as he could to try and slow the saucer's descent. Without the main impulse engines, there was no way he could pull the saucer out of its dive, but he could try something.  
First things first. With at least some control over the ship's systems restored, he setup a harmonic resonance in the shield grid that disrupted Stalart's tractor beam, sending the other ship spinning off course and out of Noonan's sight.  
One problem down.  
Now, he was on his own, sitting in a giant disc over 200 meters in diameter, trying to figure out how to land it in the ocean dead ahead without smashing it to a million pieces.  
An ocean!  
Noonan fired the maneuvering thrusters, hoping that the shape of the saucer could give him a bit of lift he could just get the angle right. He had less than a minute before impact. There was no chance the saucer could survive a crash landing on solid land and still be space-worthy, but an ocean was different. If he could hit the water just right, he might be able to save the ship!  
The saucer pitched back, orienting itself to give the most air resistance. With the bridge now at it's proper orientation, rather than staring straight down at the planet Noonan found himself looking out across the curvature of the planet, the temporal distortion visible overhead. But he was still falling too fast! There was no way he was going to put the saucer down in one piece!  
The saucer bucked like a midshipmen's bed during shore leave. For a moment, he was sure he could see more lines of distortion, radiating out from his position in all directions. His skin tingled as a surge of energy washed over him, lifting him out of his seat.  
And suddenly it was over. Whatever it was that had just happened, there was no time to worry about it. The saucer had suddenly slowed its vertical decent, but the angle Noonan had moved it to had it acting like a giant airfoil and the saucer was now moving forward as well as down.  
No time to think now, just seconds until the saucer hit the ocean. He diverted all remaining power to the structural integrity fields and the inertial dampeners. If he'd angled it right…  
BAAAAAMMMMM!  
The saucer hit the water, moving down and forward. Windows, hatches and bulkheads in the lower decks buckled as the saucer hit the water then jumped, like a rock skipping across the pond. Noonan was tossed clear over the helm console, his body smashing with incredible force into the bulkhead next to the viewscreen. The saucer flew through air for a short distance before hitting the water again. This time it slid across the water, rapidly losing speed as water began pouring in through the breaches in the lower decks.

Lieutenant Jane Fifebee didn't have a clue what was going on.  
One minute she'd been at her station as Silverado did battle with Stalart's ship, the next she was standing next to her holo-relay in Impulse Engineering. Her program was badly fragmented, many subroutines weren't responding and her personality database was sending back 'personality not found' errors.  
She rushed to a console, trying to determine what was happening. She quickly found that the saucer section was gone, the crew had abandoned ship and she was alone in the stardrive section, which was on a collision course with the planet. Even worse, the backup computer core in the secondary hull was crashing to a halt. She wasn't sure how exactly her program had been transferred to the secondary core, but concluded it probably had something to do with the malfunctions apparently plaguing the ship.  
Without wasting any more time, Fifebee manually activated the main impulse engines. The stardrive section bucked; the inertial dampeners were clearly lagging. Unable to use any computer control or other navigational aids, Fifebee made adjustments to the impulse engines faster than the eye could see, hoping that she was in time.  
Seconds later, Fifebee was still hard at work when the computer fully crashed. Her program and the impulse engines ground to a halt as the stardrive section drifted in it's new but stable orbit around the planet. A few systems fired briefly at random, a thruster here, a phaser beam there, but it was the last twitches of a lifeless corpse.  
The only sign of life on the derelict starship was the computer voice, stuck in a loop, it's last response caught in the voice buffers.  
"Init…init…init…"

One month later…

"Anybody know how we're supposed to get in?" Lieutenant San Jall asked, standing between Ensign Trish Yanick and Ensign Rengs Aris on the upper surface of the saucer, the sunlight glinting off the metal.  
The primitive Delori ships that had delivered them there were gone, pulled away by an unexplained phenomenon. The Delori themselves were gone, leaving the senior staff, the Hazardous Team and several members of the night shift standing on the saucer in the middle of the Delori ocean known as the Central Sea.  
It had been a long trip, taking them weeks to work their way from their crash sites to the source of the automated distress beacon in the saucer section. They hadn't really known what to expect; some of them knew the saucer had crashed, others thought the entire ship lay beneath the sea. None had been prepared to see the saucer half-submerged in the water, appearing to be largely intact. They happiness at finding each other alive was still running strong, and even T'Parief had a smile on his face.  
"Well," Stafford said, grinning, "I have to admit, I'm not used to seeing the ship from the outside. Simon, any ideas?"  
"Shuttlebay," Jeffery said at once, pointing towards the aft end of the 3-deck superstructure that sat atop the saucer.  
"Uh, how do we get up there?" Yanick asked, "I mean, not to sound blond, but this metal is kinda slippery,"  
As if to prove her point, Jall went to take a step towards the shuttlebay and stumbled, falling backwards, sliding down the smooth hull and splashing into the cold water.  
"Oops," Jall said, his head poking up through the surface of the water, "I think I just found the forward phaser array,"  
"Glad to know it's still attached to the ship," Yanick giggled.  
"Here, like this," Jeffery said. He moved with tiny, shuffling steps, reaching out to brace himself on a lifeboat hatch.  
"Y'know, I suddenly wish we didn't make our ships so smooth," Simmons said, moving carefully as Marsden lost his balance with a yelp and went sliding down into the water.  
"But they look so good!" Stafford grinned.  
Finally, after a couple of tries, they stood staring at the huge shuttlebay doors.  
"I guess a Slim Jim is out of the question?" Jall asked.  
"Who?" Yanick asked.  
Jeffery had moved along to one of the personnel egress hatches next to the main doors and was tapping at the panel. Activating the manual release, he pushed the door open.  
"Ladies first," he gestured.  
Wowyk and Yanick exchanged glances, then crossed their arms and glared at Jeffery.  
"Whot?" he asked.  
"Do you think, Simon Jeffery, that we're just going waltz into an abandoned starship with no weapons and no means of protection while you men stand out here where it's safe?" Wowryk demanded.  
"Ah was trying to be chev..chav…"  
"Chivalrous?" Stafford offered.  
"Yeah man, that's it,"  
"We're not going in first," Yanick said firmly.  
"Honestly, I think if there's anything on board it has more to fear from Dr. Wowryk than you have to fear from it," Jall said.  
Wowryk put her hands on her hips, glared at Jall for a moment, then gave him a very hard shove. The Ops officer went stumbling down the slope of the hull, lost his footing, fell to the metal with a dull thud and slid down into the water.  
The men stared at Wowryk for a moment.  
"I found the aft phaser array too," Jall called from below.  
"Well," Stafford said, "I guess we just need to find somebody else to go in. Somebody brave. Fearless. Willing to face danger. And not part of the irreplaceable senior staff,"  
"I guess this is where we come in," Stern sighed.

The Hazardous Team poked their heads into the shuttlebay.  
The airlock Jeffery had opened led into a small alcove off the main bay. The lighting in the ship was dim, emergency lighting only. Inside the shuttlebay they could see the shuttlecraft, two of which were turned on their sides. A third had smashed up against the forward bulkhead, one warp nacelle crushed. The runabout Niagra had taken heavy damage in the crash. Apparently the third shuttle had hit the Niagra on its way to the forward bulkhead, destroying the runabouts starboard impulse and warp engines. Most of the LCARS display panels they could see up in the control room were dark; only a few of them showed any sign of life. Without the hum of the engines and the other ship systems, the saucer was eerily quiet.  
"It's quiet in here," Simmons said, "Too quiet,"  
"I'm sure you're about to change that," Stern muttered.  
"Somebody wanna run and tell the cowards, er, senior staff that it's safe to come in?"  
"I'll go," Rengs said.  
Shortly after, the gathered crewmembers (including a very wet San Jall) were milling about in the shuttlebay.  
"Anybody got a tricorder?" Stafford asked.  
No less than 10 tricorders were offered.  
"Good thing we had so many of these," Stafford mused, taking one from Jeffery. He noticed that Jeffery was looking a bit fidgety, shifting his weight from one foot to another.  
"Somebody wrong, Simon?" Stafford asked quietly.  
"Don't ye think ye should be…well...commanding about now?" Jeffery said.  
"I am commanding," Stafford said, frowning.  
"Yer not telling us to do anything!"  
"I haven't decided what to do yet," Stafford said, moving the two of them out of earshot of the rest, "Look, Simon, I know back in Dufarndan you were sort of running the show, and you did a pretty good job of it. But it's time now for you to sit back and let me handle things,"  
"If ye can," Jeffery said, immediately wishing he hadn't.  
"Is that what this is about?" Stafford asked, "You don't think I can handle this?"  
"Nay," Jeffery said, "Ah don't mean it like-"  
"Because I have been doing this command thing for a while, you know," Stafford went on, "Despite what you may think, Starfleet DID make me the Captain for a reason!"  
"Ah didn't mean it like that," Jeffery said again, "Ah just…"  
"Just what?" Stafford asked, "I think I know. You just think you have a better idea, right?"  
Jeffery bit his lip.  
"Let's try mine first," Stafford said, calming himself down, "And when we get to the part of the meeting where I say 'any suggestions', that's your cue,"  
He walked back to the rest of his crew. Jeffery stood for a moment, not sure whether to be angry at Stafford for pushing him down or relieved his friend was taking a more aggressive stand.

"Anybody else find anything?" Stafford asked, "Cuz I sure haven't,"  
The group had been scanning with their tricorders, trying to find any sign of life on the ship before they went exploring.  
"Nothing," Jall confirmed, "No life signs, no weird energy readings besides the temporal thingies."  
"OK, here's the plan," Stafford said, "Hazardous Team, you guys start searching the ship,"  
"For what?" Stern asked.  
"Anything," Stafford said, "Jeffery, you and Jall head down to…oh geez. What is that place? The one that has the saucer fusion reactors and the other systems we use when we're in Separated Flight Mode? The one we've never used since reattaching the saucer is such a huge pain we've never detached it in the first place?"  
"Saucer Engineering?" Jeffery asked.  
"We have a Saucer Engineering room?" Yanick asked.  
"We kinda have to," Jeffery said, "Since both Main and Impulse Engineering are in the stardrive section. It's pretty tiny though."  
"With all these engine rooms, it's a wonder we have room for anything else," Wowryk said.  
"Wowryk, you and Trish head to Sickbay. Check things out, and find a medkit for this hole in my arm," he held up his arm, still wrapped in Delori bandages.  
Wowryk crossed her arms again.  
"T'Parief, go with them," Stafford added quickly. He looked around to see who was left.  
"Um, I guess since I'm out of senior staff Quintaine and Burke are with me," he said, "Let's head up to the bridge,"  
Everybody split off in his or her separate ways, heading deep into the empty saucer.

Yanick and Wowryk climbed the dark Jefferies tube ladder down to Deck 8. Yanick had seen holo-programs where people were in an abandoned ship, and there were always scary noises. The ships creaked, groaned and otherwise demonstrated just how creepy they were. The saucer was sitting in a calm sea, and there wasn't so much as a drip. Only the sounds of her, T'Parief and Wowryk's hands and feet on the ladder. Somehow, that made things all the creepier.  
"So, Noel," Yanick said, hoping to get a conversation going, "How was your time on Delori?"  
"Ungodly," Noel answered.  
"Um, oh," Yanick said.  
"Lieutenant Jall got on our nerves," T'Parief said from above them.  
"Sounds pretty standard," Yanick said, giggling nervously.  
"Dr. Wowryk was nearly seduced by a man,"  
"OHHHH!" Yanick was suddenly all ears, "Was he cute? Nice? How far did you go? C'mon Noel, you gotta tell me!"  
"He was," Wowryk winced, "Evil. Why don't you just ask Mr. T'Parief about all the furry woodland creatures he slaughtered on our trip?"  
"PAAAAARI!" Yanick growled.  
"We ate most of them!" T'Parief objected, trying to defend himself.  
"That doesn't help!" Yanick snapped.  
Relieved to be out of the conversation for the moment, Wowryk pulled open the hatch to Deck 8. Taking a moment to catch her bearings, she pointed the palm beacon she'd found down the corridor and headed towards Sickbay.

Stafford pulled himself up the ladder. The exact same ladder that, a month ago, he'd rushed down on his way to the escape pods. This time, he was returning to his bridge.  
His bridge! He almost clapped his hands in giddy excitement. Which would be a bad thing, as he was currently using his hands to climb the ladder. Plus it would really hurt his manly image. But he was excited. Below him Quintane and Burke were theorizing about how the saucer had landed, but Stafford ignored them. He figured the computer records would tell them that.  
Computer…  
Remember that there was still at least one member of his crew that wasn't on her way back, Stafford climbed out the hatch onto the bridge.  
It looked almost the same as he'd left it, except that there was bright sunlight shining in the dome overhead, somewhat uncommon on a starship. There was also what looked like dried blood on the helm console and a large dent in the bulkhead next to the viewscreen.  
"I wonder what did that," Burke said.  
"I dunno," Stafford said, "But at least it didn't break the viewer,"

"It doesn't look like it's broken," Jall commented.  
He was standing with Jeffery down in Saucer Engineering, a small compartment on Deck 9, just aft of the computer core. The saucer had a number of redundant systems that served either as backups if the main systems in the stardrive section failed or as independent systems if the saucer were to be separated. Fusion reactors, SIF and IDF field generators, deflector shields, you name it.  
Walking up to the small reactor pillar in the center of the room, Jeffery tapped at his tricorder.  
"It's not," he said, "But it's only running at half power, and it looks like most of that power is being re-routed to emergency force-fields and structural integral field generators,"  
"I guess the saucer took some damage on the way down," Jall commented.  
"Aye," Jeffery said. He closed his tricorder and tapped at the panel for a few moments. The reactor pillar brightened as he increased the power, then the main lighting flickered on.  
"We've got short circuits in the lower decks," Jeffery reported after moment, "Looks like a lot of flooding down there,"  
"At least the auto-cutoff systems kept the shorts from crashing the entire power distribution network," Jall said brightly, "again,"  
"Aye, cuz this time there was nobody aboard to f**k it up," Jeffery took a quick look around, "Let's head to the bridge. Nothin' more to do we can't do from there for the time being,"

Yanick gave a little jump as the power in Sickbay came back on.  
"Oh, good," Wowryk said calmly, not looking up from where she was picking up scattered medical supplies. T'Parief had gone to check the labs and morgue for…whatever it was security officers checked for.  
"Er, yeah," Yanick said.  
"You know," Wowryk said thoughtfully, neatly arranging some hyposprays she'd recovered on the surgical cart, "This reminds me of my first day on this ship. Scattered medical instruments, power outages, not sure if we would survive or not,"  
"We have a ship again," Yanick said, "That's a lot more than we thought we'd have!"  
"True," Wowryk agreed, "But we also thought Starfleet would be here to rescue us by now, and that hasn't happened yet. Our record on assumptions really needs work."  
"Well, for all we know they could be in orbit, trying to get through the interference,"  
"Perhaps," Wowryk said coolly, "Trish, please hand me that tissue regenerator,"  
"Geez, what climbed up your butt and died," Yanick muttered, handing over the requested instrument.  
"Nothing," Wowryk said.  
There was silence for a few moments.  
"I don't think it's nothing," Yanick said, "I mean, it's bugging you, so it's gotta be something important,"  
"No, it's petty," Wowryk said angrily, grabbing a neural stimulator off the floor.  
Yanick walked over and took the helmet-shaped device from her.  
"Noel," Yanick said, "We've all been apart too long. Don't hold back on me now,"  
Wowryk looked down at the floor.  
"I," she hesitated, "It's terrible of me to think this," she said, "but some part of me wishes the ship HAD been destroyed,"  
"What?" Yanick was shocked, "How could you say that?"  
"Look at this," Wowryk gestured around them, "I really mean it when I say I feel like I'm back where I started. I'm in a trashed sickbay on a trashed ship! If it had just blown up we could be on our way to new assignments. They might have even given us a new ship! Something fresh from the shipyards, or at least something that wasn't around during the bicentennial! But no!" she was gaining volume and confidence now, "Now we're going to be expected to haul this beaten corpse off the ground yet again! Even if the stardrive section is gone they'll probably just dig another one up out of some other junkyard!"  
Yanick looked at her for several minutes.  
"Are you really that unhappy here?" she asked quietly.  
"I'm glad to be back around familiar, human faces," Wowryk said crisply, "And I'm relieved so many of us seem to have survived. Trish, let's…let's not talk about this anymore. OK?"  
"OK," Trish said, turning away so Wowryk wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"Ahh, that's better," Stafford grinned as he sat in his chair, the lights coming up around him, "Burke, if Jeffery's got the power back up, see if you can get some systems running. Sensors and communications would be great,"  
"OK," Burke said, sitting down at the science station. The interface display flickered online easily enough, and it only took him a moment to determine that his pornography collection was intact and undamaged.  
"Thank God," he sighed in relief.  
Quintaine had slid into the Port Auxillary console and was restoring access to the ship's flight recorder.  
"Hmmm," he said.  
"What?" Stafford asked.  
"Well, there's a lot of weird stuff to go though," Quintaine said, "And a lot of it's scrambled from the computer malfunctions, but it looks like somebody was on the bridge right until the crash,"  
"Really?" Stafford said, "Who would have been here after we left?"  
"Captain," now Quintaine was looking at him strangely, "Somebody had to have landed the saucer. There's no way the automatic systems would have brought it down,"  
"I guess you're right," Stafford said, scratching his head, "I just can't think of who would have done that,"  
"Heya folks," Jall gave a little wave as he climbed out the emergency exit hatch, followed by Jeffery.  
"Hi," Stafford gave an absent-minded little wave, "Uh, you guys were on the bridge when we evacuated. Any idea who would have flown the ship down?"  
Jall and Jeffery exchanged glances.  
"Noonan," Jall said, frowning, "who else?"  
"I don't remember," Stafford said, "Didn't he go to the escape pods like everybody else?"  
"The two of ye were havin' a row," Jeffery said, "Arguing about something. Next thing Ah know, ye were haulin' me off the bridge,"  
"He must have," Jall paused, "You know, I can't think of what he'd do at a time like that,"  
"He messed with my mind," Stafford said softly, "I…I was trying to get him to come with us. Next thing I remember, I'm with Yanick and Jeffery in the lifeboat. He did something to me,"  
"So where did he go?" Jall asked.  
Stafford looked back at the helm, at the blood on the panel. Jeffery and Jall followed his gaze.  
"Nay, he's can't be badly hurt," Jeffery said, "Ah mean, he's no here, is he?  
Stafford looked up at the bright sunlight streaming in the dome overhead, remembering all the extreme precautions his First Officer took to protect himself from the sun, and one incident just recently, on the planet Starbase 45 orbited, where Noonan had almost gone up in flames.  
"Maybe he was here," Stafford said darkly.

"Trish," T'Parief hurried down the corridor, now brightly lit but still disturbingly quiet, following Yanick as she walked angrily away from Sickbay.  
"What?" Yanick asked, wiping tears off her face.  
"You should stay with Wowryk," T'Parief said, "It may not be safe to wander,"  
"Oh come on Pari," Yanick said angrily, "We're home now. What does it matter?"  
"We don't know," T'Parief pushed on, "There could be hostiles on board, you could accidentally open a door into a flooded section-"  
"Since when did you turn into such a worry-wart?" Yanick asked, turning back to face him.  
T'Parief stared at her. She still wore her work cloths from the Delori research ship, including the cleavage-revealing top Jeffery had suggested. Her hair was free of its ponytail and fell in a tangle behind her back. Any makeup she'd had on had washed away and her face was wet with tears. She really did look like a drowned rat.  
And T'Parief had never been more turned on.  
"I missed you," he said, pulling her into his arms and bending down to kiss her.  
"Ohhhh," Yanick said after they broke apart, "Thanks Pari. I really needed a hug,"  
"My pleasure" T'Parief trailed off. Yanick's face had suddenly gone blank. She blinked, looking at him, a confused expression on her face.  
"I have to go," she said, her voice a strange sing-song, like she was talking to a baby. She turned and walked away.  
T'Parief moved to follow her. Wait. Follow who? Nobody had been there at all.  
Shrugging, he returned to Sickbay.

"Ah think Ah got it!" Jeffery called from the Engineering station on the bridge.  
Display screens across the bridge flickered as the main computer came back online, sending the backup systems back into standby mode and assuming control of the ship.  
The main viewscreen flickered, then a moving starfield appeared with block letters hovering in front of the Federation logo:

WELCOME TO LCARS! PLEASE ENTER YOUR AUTHORIZATION CODE TO ACTIVATE YOUR STARSHIP!

"Great work Jeffery!" Stafford said, "Let's get this thing going!"  
Jeffery looked blankly at him for a moment.  
"Don't you have the code?"  
Stafford blinked.  
"Noooo…."  
"Oh, this is just GREAT!" Jall groaned, scraping dried blood off the helm console.  
"Computer, initiate system startup, authorization Stafford-Omicron-Niner-Beta,"  
Nothing happened.  
"It was worth a try," he shrugged.  
"Oy, this is just perfect," Jeffery held his head in his hands.  
"Well, didn't you write this thing down somewhere?" Stafford asked.  
"Of course not!" Jeffery said, "Ye only need the activation codes when yer activating a new starship! We dinna need to do that! But something in the crash must have wiped out the activation records. Nobody can use the main computer until we get that code!"  
"Well, shut it down!" Stafford ordered.  
Jeffery tapped his panel. The Federation emblem vanish and the backup systems came back online.  
"Well, we've got some stuff running on backups," Quintaine said, "Scanners, flight log access, basic functions. But if we're going to get out of here, we're going to need the main computer,"  
"Sylvia would have the codes, wouldn't she?" Jall asked.  
Everybody looked at Jeffery.  
"Ah dunno," he shrugged. He brightened, "But ye know, they're probably in the user's manual!"  
"We have a user's manual?" Jall asked.  
"Aye! It's down in me office in Main Engineering!"  
Stafford blew out an exasperated breath and crossed his arms, staring at Jeffery.  
"Oh," Jeffery bit his lip as he realized that Main Engineering was no longer attached to the rest of the ship.

Stafford stormed off the bridge into his ready room. Burke and Quintaine were hovering over the Science console, working to reconstruct the ship's crash into the ocean. Jall was examining the banged-up bulkhead next to the viewscreen, muttering something about 'moving to art-deco' under his breath. Jeffery sat staring at the Engineering console, wondering where on earth to start. He had to admit; he was thrilled to be back aboard. He'd put so much time and energy into this ship, the idea of leaving her abandoned somewhere had really been eating at him. He could repair the body, but he had no idea what they were going to do to find Sylvia, the ship's soul.  
He glanced over at the ship schematic. The entire stardrive section of the diagram was dark, the saucer had red indicators all across the lower hull. If he had an engineering team he could send people to start patching up the hull. On his own, he couldn't really do much aside from making sure flooded sections were sealed off, redistributing power and looking for any other glitches caused by the systems crash that led to this entire mess.  
"Hiya Simon,"  
"Hi Trish," he said, giving a wave but not pulling his eyes from his screen.  
"Um, can you do me a favor?"  
"Sure, what's up?'  
"Could you restore replicator power to Deck 2 and reinitialize the EPS grid? There are some specialty systems I need access to,"  
"Sure," Jeffery tapped at his console, redirecting energy flow, "All done. Anything…"  
Trish was gone.  
"Else?" he finished.  
"T'Parief to Jeffery,"  
"Aye?"  
"Commander, have you seen Ensign Yanick?"  
Jeffery thought to himself for a moment. Somebody had just come to visit him. Was it Trish? Naw. Trish would never walk up to him talking about EPS grids and power systems. It was probably Quintaine or somebody. If Trish had been there, she would have said something about the pretty colours on his console or something.  
"No sign of her, mate," Jeffery said, "Sorry,"

Yanick stepped out of the Jefferies tube onto Deck 2. The Captain's quarters were at the very front of the deck, quarters for higher ranking officers running down the deck on the port and starboard sides. To the aft was access to a pair of escape pods and the 'Ambassador's Suite'; luxurious guest quarters. Ignoring the rest, Yanick walked straight to Noonan's quarters and tapped at the door.  
Noonan's belongings were scattered around the room, having been knocked off their shelves in the crash. His NX-class ship model was smashed against one wall, his books were in a pile on the floor and most of his wine glasses were smashed. Bright sunlight streamed in the windows, causing Yanick to shield her eyes.  
She bent down to the floor, finding a single unbroken glass. The delicate gold filigree around the rim glittered in the bright light. Humming softly to herself she checked the tiny power indicator on the base, noting it was dead. Oh well. She wasn't looking for the glasses anyway. They were for regular feedings. She needed something larger…there! Reaching under a pile of books she pulled out the large thermal container Noonan had sometimes used.  
Still humming, her eyes open but not truly seeing, she placed the container in the replicator.  
"Computer, wine," she said, "New Orleans, 1791,"  
"Access restricted," the backup computer voice intoned suddenly, "Please enter authorization code,"  
Yanick began tapping at the panel, entering dozens of seemingly random characters.  
"Code accepted," the computer said, "Please state clearance code,"  
"Noonan," Yanick said, "Lafeyette-Alpha-Three,"  
The thermal container shimmered for a moment, then Yanick removed it.

She climbed down the Jefferies Tube to Deck 13.  
Most of the deck was flooded, the transparent aluminum windows looking out into space having buckled in when the ship hit the water. But the corridor was clear, as was a small closet near the center of the deck.  
She left the thermal container by the door. The door opened, the container vanished. After a few moments, it reappeared.  
"More," a soft voice whispered.

"Got it!" Burke called triumphantly.  
"Got what?" Jeffery asked, not sounding very enthusiastic.  
"Fifebee's original sensor readings from before the crash!" Burke said happily, "Along with sensor readings from the crash itself!"  
"How's that possible?" Jeffery asked, coming over to look, "The systems were goin' haywire!"  
"It looks like the main computer shut down a few minutes before impact, letting the backups kick in," Burke explained.  
"Any sign of Fifebee?"  
"No," Burke shook his head, "It looks like her program was transferred somewhere, maybe the stardrive computer core. But, Commander, look at this!"  
They stared at the readings.  
"Well, this explains a lot," Jeffery said, eyebrows reaching his forehead.  
"Uh-huh," Burke said, dazed.  
There was another beep.  
"Incoming contact," Jall said at Ops, "Looks like…um, it looks like a hot-air balloon?"  
"Life signs?" Quintaine asked.  
"3 humans, one Vulcan," Jall said, "Looks like we've got more stragglers arriving home,"  
"I've got another one just entering range," Burke said, "Single engine biplane. Looks like an Andorian and a Rigellian,"  
"Good to know,"  
"I think we better get the Captain," Burke said, turning back to his other sensor readings, "He's gonna wanna see this,"

T'Parief was walking the corridor outside Sickbay while Wowryk treated Stafford for the wound to his arm. He still felt a sense of unreality, standing there in the ships corridor as though nothing had happened. Except for the eerie silence, he could almost imaging the ship was floating in space rather than an ocean.  
Inside, Wowryk was running a tissue regenerator over Stafford's arm.  
"So, Doc," Stafford said, "How was your trip?"  
"You make it sound like a vacation," Wowryk said coolly.  
"Well," Stafford grinned, "The way I hear it, you guys spent a few weeks camping in the great outdoors,"  
Wowryk said nothing.  
"I'm sorry about Lord Stalart, I mean, Luke," Stafford said suddenly.  
Wowryk took a deep breath, then released it.  
"I was the one that pushed you into adopting him," Stafford went on, "I really thought it would be good for you. I thought that having the little guy around would help you…" he trailed off.  
"Help me with what?" Wowryk asked, starting to look angry.  
"You just…" Stafford swallowed, "You always looked so…lonely,"  
Wowryk blinked.  
Relieved that she wasn't hitting him, Stafford pushed on.  
"I mean, I know you were dating Jeffery at the time, but you wouldn't let him close. God knows he bitched about that enough. But you had him at arms length the whole time, like you were scared to get close to him. I thought that maybe, if you had Luke to take care of, you'd open up a little bit,"  
"That's very thoughtful," Wowryk said after a moment, "And you were right. I did open up to Luke," she paused, her eyes tearing, "I miss that little guy,"  
"I mean, it's not like I knew he was an evil alien overlord," Stafford went on quickly, "I thought he was an innocent little baby-"  
"Chris," Wowryk interrupted.  
"Yes?" Stafford asked.  
"Could I have another hug?"

"Hello, Trish," T'Parief said, giving Yanick a small wave as she walked past Sickbay and down the corridor.  
"Hello, Barney," Trish said absently, wandering past him, cradling a large silver container to her chest.  
"Trish?" T'Parief asked, confused.  
Nothing.  
He turned, entering Sickbay.  
"Doctor Wowryk, I…I…" he trailed off.  
Stafford and Wowryk were standing by the main bio-bed, arms wrapped around each other. Wowryk's head was on Stafford's shoulder, tears streaming down her face. The two of them started, then broke apart like a glass hitting pavement.  
"Excuse me," T'Parief said, eyes wide as he backed out the door.  
"It was platonic!" Stafford called out.  
Far too disturbed by the image he'd just seen, T'Parief set out on his own to follow Yanick. She had climbed into one of the Jefferies tubes and, according to the scent he was following, had gone down.  
"Senior officers, report to the conference lounge," Stafford's voice came over the comm.  
Damn, bad timing! T'Parief didn't like the idea of disobeying orders, but in this case, he figured Stafford would want to know just what was going on.  
He stepped out of the Jefferies tube onto Deck 13.  
"Hello, Commander,"  
He spun around, nobody was there.  
"We've been looking for you,"  
He spun again. This time, he found himself facing Yanick and Noonan.  
Noonan looked different, which for him was highly unusual in itself. He was drawn, haggard. Almost as if he had shrunk into himself. Or rather like a fruit that had just slightly dried up. Yanick stood next to him, humming to herself as she twirled her hair around a finger.  
"Perhaps we should go to the meeting?" Noonan suggested.  
"Of course," T'Parief nodded, his mind having gone blissfully blank. After, nothing was unusual with the situation, right? Everything was status quo.

Captain's Log, Stardate….

"Stardate unkown, actually. I mean, we know what stardate it should be, but since we're on this stupid planet with all the temporal time thingies, for all we know we're a thousand years into the future at this point. Or the past. Or something like that."  
"Anyway, the senior staff has gathered to discuss the situation in which we find ourselves, our first meeting in over a month! And though we're still missing two very important members of our team, I just damned glad we've got everybody else back!"

"OK, Ensign Burke," Stafford said, gesturing for the short, blond science expert to start.  
"Um, OK, well," Burke swallowed. He wasn't used to addressing the entire senior staff, "Well, uh, here are Lieutenant Fifebee's readings from before the ship crashed,"  
"Ye mean before Stalart and his midget bastards pulled us out of orbit and stole Sylvia," Jeffery said angrily.  
"Er, yes," Burke tapped the display screen. An image of the planet appeared, overlay with severall large amorphous blobs, "Uh, we found from our initial readings that the planet was covered by strange layers of temporal interference. We didn't really have time to figure out what they were, but we knew that they blocked most of our sensor readings, attempts at communication, pretty much everything but line of sight. And they do a great job of messing that up too!"  
"Right," Wowryk said, "If we'd known what was down there, we would have scrammed right away,"  
"Which brings up the next point," Jall dove in, "We have reports from different groups of survivors that give six very different descriptions of the planet,"  
"The Hazardous Team found themselves in ancient times," Burke went on, "Early agricultural and trading societies, worship and sacrifices to deities and demons, barely at Bronze-Age type technology!"  
"Yanick, Jeffery and I found ourselves in a suburban city," Stafford stared intently at the diagram, understanding dawning on him, "Wowryk, Jall and T'Parief wound up in the local equivalent of the Middle Ages,"  
"More like the Dark Ages," Wowryk huffed.  
"At least you were not desired as a large pet," T'Parief said.  
"How amusing," Noonan put in.  
Something at the back of Stafford's mind tugged at him, telling him that something wasn't quite right. He shook his head, trying to push back the feeling.  
"Anyway," Burke went on, "It seems that not only is this planet cut off from the rest of the universe by a layer of temporal interference, it's also been split into 7 different temporal 'zones', one for each continent. Based on what we've found there, we've name them the Ancient Zone, the Medieval Zone, the Steam Zone, the Renaissance Zone, the Tribal Zone and the Stupid Zone,"  
"Stupid Zone?" Yanick asked.  
"Have you BEEN to the 21st Century, honey?" Jall asked.  
"Yes," Yanick said, "I've been to this planet's 21st Century and Earth's 21st Century,"  
"That's only 6 zones," Jeffery pointed out.  
"Well," Burke said, "We haven't had anybody return to the ship yet who came down in the 7th continent,"  
"What a pity," Stafford said, "So what the hell happened when we were returning to the ship? With all the stuff fading, and the Delori vanishing, and sailing right past the saucer without blinking an eye?"  
"It all has to do with being in sync," Jall explained, "See, we don't belong on this planet. Neither does the saucer. The Delori do. I'd guess that we were slightly out of sync the whole time we were in their time zones, but since we were in physical contact with the people and the objects there, we were 'anchored' in that zone,"  
"But you didn't really belong," Noonan mused, "Fascinating. And because you were still in sync with the saucer, you were able to find it,"  
"But the Delori couldn't because they were perfectly synced to their time zones," Jall nodded.  
"Why did they vanish as soon as we left their ships?" Wowryk wanted to know.  
"We looked at the sensor readings from right before the saucer hit the ocean," Burke said, bringing up another image, "And we think it explains it,"  
They watched the screen. The image showed sensor readings around the saucer as it fell through the atmosphere. There wasn't much to see, just the huge shimmering layer of interference above and the ocean below. But then, just for a second, the image changed. Suddenly, there were 6 lines of shimming incandescence radiating out from the saucer in all directions. The series of numbers next to the image jumped suddenly, and the saucer's velocity suddenly dropped,"  
"What the hell?" Jeffery frowned.  
"Very interesting," Noonan said, "Yes, I remember seeing this as the saucer came down,"  
The ticking in the back of Stafford's head and grown into a full-blown itch. Something was not as it should be. Dammit, but what?"  
"Look," Burke pointed, "Whatever this temporal stuff is, the saucer passed right through a major nexus of it! The temporal barriers dividing the planet all intersect here, and the amount of energy is amazing! They actually repelled the saucer for that moment when it passed through the nexus, pushing it away from the planet!"  
"If they hadn't," Noonan said, "The saucer probably would have taken much more serious damage in the crash,"  
"Wait," Stafford's jaw dropped. The time zones, the blank Delori map, the comments Jeffery had heard regarding the 'nature of the world, "Barriers. You mean, the Delori CAN'T LEAVE? They're stuck in their time zones, and they got snapped back because of that?"  
"Right," Jall said, "They only made it as far as they did because of us…because we CAN pass through the barriers. As soon as they lost physical contact with us they were pulled back into their time zone. They probably don't even know what happened!"  
"My God," Wowryk said, "Those people, they're all trapped. Trapped in their own parts of their world, unable to leave, unable to grow!"  
"Why?" T'Parief asked, "What is the motive? Why would somebody do this to themselves? Or why would somebody do this to these people?"  
Noonan was frowning at the original diagram of the planet. He gestured for Burke to zoom in on one section. The seventh continent. It was located on the exact opposite side of the planet from the Central Sea. Unlike the other 6 time zones, which were wedge shaped and extended out from the Central Sea towards the seventh continent, the time zone around the seventh continent was round.  
"That continent," Noonan said, "None of our people landed on it because it's on the far side of the planet,"  
"I guess," Burke shrugged, looking at the diagram, "Most of the lifeboats came down around the Central Sea here. They're not exactly built for long range,"  
"And you described a 'nexus' of temporal energy nearby?"  
"Yeah," Burke said, indicating a convergence of the anomalies on his display, not far from the saucer,"  
"Perhaps a temporal pole, so to speak?" Noonan asked.  
Stafford shivered.  
"That would suggest," he said, "that if there's a temporal pole near us, and the 7th continent is at the other side of the planet…"  
"Then the other pole, and possibly whatever is generating them, is there as well," Noonan finished.  
"Creepy," Yanick said.  
"Yeah," Stafford agreed, "Somebody's really been messing up this planet AND these people,"  
"No," Yanick shook her head, "I mean, it's creepy that we were able to figure all this stuff out,"  
"It did take us over a month," Jall pointed out.  
"OK," Stafford said, "So we know what's happened to the planet, but we don't know why. We've got 3 objectives. First, we need to get off the planet. If we're really lucky, the stardrive section is still in orbit. There may even be a rescue ship up there by now. Even if we have to abandon the saucer on the planet, we can at least get back to Federation space,"  
"We have no readings of the stardrive section after it detached," Jall said, "It's probably still up there,"  
"Right," Stafford nodded, "Jall, you, Yanick and Jeffery are going to try to figure out how to get up there and either use the stardrive section to evacuate the rest of us or at least get the authorization codes so we can finish booting up the damned saucer!"  
"Goody!" Yanick said, turning to give Jall a high-five.  
"Second," Stafford said, "We need to stop Stalart from doing whatever it is he's doing. Third, and most importantly, we need to get Sylvia back!"  
"Now we're talkin'!" Jeffery said, slapping a hand on the table.  
"I take it I will be assisting with that?" T'Parief asked.  
Stafford shook his head.  
"Sorry big guy, but if the folks in the Medieval Zone thought you were a dragon, what will the people in the Stupid Zone think?"  
"Being dissected in a lab would be bad, sweetie," Yanick said, patting his arm.  
T'Parief grumbled in displeasure, but said nothing.  
"You'll need to keep in mind," Burke jumped in, "Stalart and his people are out of sync with this planet the same way we are. If we can find this ship, there's no reason why he can't find it,"  
"Who's goin' after Sylvia then?" Jeffery asked.  
"I'm taking the Hazardous Team back to Dufarndan…the Stupid Zone…whatever," Stafford said, "We're going to go back and kick Stalart's ass, along with the asses of all his little cronies, back to where they came from!"  
"But if Stalart's arming the Delori with advanced weapons-" Noonan started.  
"We'll take advanced weapons with us," Stafford said, "Jeffery, is there any way to move the saucer closer to Dufarndan? We might need to extra support, especially if Stalart's close to finished repairing his ship,"  
Jeffery gulped.  
"Pye might be able to move ye a bit closer with the thrusters," he said, "But this ain't a boat. And without the main computer, it's gonna be tricky!"  
"He'll try," Stafford said.  
"I think there's a fourth objective we must consider," Noonan said.  
"What's that?" Stafford said. As he turned to face his First Officer head on, he was almost overcome by a wave of dizziness. Something was 100% not right. And it had to do with Noonan…something about Noonan being there.  
"We need to find out who is doing this to the Delori," Noonan said, "And whoever they are, they are very possibly on the 7th continent. I want to go there,"  
"What, just cross the planet like that?" Jall crossed his arms, "If you didn't notice, the shuttles are smashed, the transporters are down and there isn't exactly a hovercab we can call,"  
"I can make it," Noonan said, "I can obtain an aircraft in Dufarndan, fly as far as I can in that zone and proceed the rest of the way. If there is a second nexus of temporal energy, it's vital that we know it,"  
"I don't see why," Stafford said.  
"Because," Noonan said, "I can only think of one reason why Stalart's people were investigating this planet to begin with,"  
"To get control of whatever is causing this time fracturing?" Wowryk asked.  
"It makes sense," Noonan said.  
"It does," Stafford finally agreed, "You going alone doesn't. Take T'Parief with you, if you're going to be traveling most of the time. Or Ensign Day."  
"I'm more effective on my own," Noonan said, "This experience should prove that,"  
He was right, Stafford realized. It was all so reasonable. Noonan was better working on his own than as part of a group, he did it most of the time on the ship anyway and-  
Something in Stafford's mind snapped. Suddenly, everything was clear…and he knew exactly what the problem was.  
"Fine," he said, eyes boring into Noonan, "Dismissed. Noonan, stay here,"  
The staff starting filing out.  
"Nice command performance," Jeffery said, patting Stafford on the shoulder on his way out.

Finally, Stafford and Noonan were alone.  
"Do you remember," Stafford said, "About a year ago. We were testing out that Improbability Drive. We had a little chat, about how strange you were; the sun thing, the fang teeth, always drinking wine, living off in your own little world?"  
"Yes," Noonan said.  
"I seem to recall saying that I'd lost my trust and respect for you. And after we had that little argument, things got better. We were working as a team again. Things were going well,"  
"They were," Noonan said.  
"And I also remember," Stafford said, "That you promised me that you wouldn't make the same mistake with the rest of the crew as you made with me. That you wouldn't influence them with whatever mind-power you have."  
"I did," Noonan said.  
"Y'know, I almost didn't notice it this time," Stafford said, "Maybe you were more subtle. Maybe it's because of this mess we're in. But you've influenced me twice now. You forced me to leave you behind when we evacuated, and now that we're back on the ship you've been trying to get us all to just imagine that you being here alive is perfectly normal, and I WANT TO KNOW WHY!" Stafford slammed a fist down on the table.  
Noonan was quiet for a moment.  
"I did force you to leave me," he said, "I needed everybody safely off the ship, and felt that I had a chance to save it. Which I did, I might add," he held his head high, "I was seriously injured in the crash. Now, despite what you may think, I can be hurt. Badly. I couldn't take the steps needed to recover. It was all I could do to pull myself off the bridge and away from the sunlight streaming in the windows. I made it to an empty section of the lower decks and remained there. With enough time, I would have healed. However, when you returned, I knew I had to take action. I couldn't allow any of you to see me in that state, so I influenced Yanick to bring me what I needed to heal myself. I returned, still weak but mobile. If I hadn't done something, you all would have asked very inconvenient questions about why I had not attempted to help any of you, why I had taken no steps to repair the saucer, etc. Instead, I chose to give the impression that all was well. The rest of the crew has no suspicion of my true nature, and I had hoped that enough time had passed that you wouldn't either,"  
"Didn't quite work that way, did it?" Stafford said softly.  
"No," Noonan replied.  
The stared at each other in silence for several minutes. The 200-year old being Noonan had become and the young man Stafford was, so much like the man Noonan might have been.  
"I should be angry," Stafford said.  
"Yes,"  
"You saved the ship," Stafford sighed, rubbing his forehead, "And you were looking out in the best interest for the crew. But tell me, Matthew, how do you feel about this?"  
Noonan started. It was the last thing he was expecting. He was expecting Stafford to rant, to rave. To scream and yell and eventually tire himself out in a cooling ember of mortal rage. This, this tired, resigned question was the last thing he was expecting.  
"How do you feel," Stafford said, "About living a lie? How do you feel about reporting for your shift every day, hanging out in the lounge, meeting people in the corridors, when none of them really know you? When all they know is this façade you keep working so hard to maintain?"  
Noonan said nothing.  
"You remind me of a character in one of Anne Rice's old books," Stafford went on, "See, she wrote about these immortal beings, vampires really. They all lived these strange, fantastically dark lives. They had riches, they had eternal life, they had so many of the things that people dream of. But they were always, always alone. Something about you just reminds me so much of those poor characters,"  
"You may be more right than you know," Noonan sighed. He sat down across from Stafford, "Chris, I wish I could tell all of you about my life. I wish I could tell you what it was like to be me, what it was like to have seen the things I see or why I do the things I do," a red tear formed in the corner of his eye, "I want to share who I am with all of you. But it's not possible. My people have learned from experience, far too much experience, that we have to stand apart. We need to stay alone,"  
"Then why are you here?" Stafford asked.  
"That may be a question I need to think about," Noonan admitted, "I will have to think about it very carefully," he stood and straightened his uniform, "After this crisis is over,"  
"Go to the 7th continent," Stafford said, returning to business, "Find out what's there. Hopefully, by the time you get back we'll have Sylvia and a way off this planet,"  
"Good luck then," Noonan said, reaching out to shake his Captain's hand, "Good luck to both of us,"


	12. Museum Piece - Part Two

Star Traks: Silverado

3.12 , "Museum Piece, Part Two"

"You know, you really shouldn't eat so fast. You're going to give yourself indigestion,"  
"Silence, you insipient witch!"  
"You really should be grateful that I'm looking out for your well-being," Sylvia said, "I wouldn't want you to get an upset tummy in the middle of your evil plot,"  
Lord Stalart, exiled ruler of Arcania, slammed his child-sized fork down on the miniature table his Delori servants had obtained for him.  
"She's right, you know," Master Klendar said. Klendar had commanded the Arcanian warship Overseer during the mission to find Stalart. Their home planet, Akurex, had been ruled by Stalart and the Arcanians for decades. It had only been more recently that the Syntapans, inhabitants of the planet's western continents, had wrestled control of their world from Stalarts dictatorial rule and imposed a democracy. Of course, the Arcanians were less than pleased to hear that their former ruler had been launched out into space in a tiny pod, and had despaired of ever finding him again. But several months ago they'd picked up a transmission from Stalart, in which he said he was being held captive aboard the Federation Starship Silverado and held in check by the conniving Sylvia, the ship's artificial intelligence. The Arcanians had dispatched the Overseer, one of their last remaining warships, to arrange for the kidnapping of Sylvia, which would then allow Stalart to make his escape. The bounty hunters they had hired had not only failed, they'd brought the fact that an outside alien force was trying to capture Sylvia to the attention of Section 31, the Federation's dark shadow organization. Section 31 had launched its own campaign to capture Sylvia, though it was a low priority item and thus 'outsourced' to a freelance agent. But then, Sylvia had unexpectedly left Silverado, finally giving Stalart the freedom to be in direct touch with the Arcanians for the first time in nearly two years!  
Either way, the capture of Sylvia had been a spectacular failure. And Stalart, after being held prisoner by her, was not willing to leave Federation space without exacting his revenge.  
But, just when everything looked bleak, luck had stuck! Klendar had stumbled upon Deloria 2, a world that not only had a strange secret, but a strange secret that could mean the difference between victory and defeat for the Arcanians struggling to regain control of their world! And their accidental discovery by the Federation Starship Stallion and Sylvia made the combination of the strange planet and their ship the perfect bait to draw either Sylvia, the Silverado or both. Without Sylvia's interference, Stalart had found it very easy to ensure that just the right information made it to Starfleet, making Silverado the logical choice to send to investigate.  
"See, Luke?" Sylvia said, a hint of triumph in her voice, "Klendar agrees with me,"  
"I am not Luke!" Stalart shouted, his vocalizer translating the anger he was feeling perfectly, "I am Lord Stalart of Arcania, and I am going to destroy you!"  
"Sure sweetie," Sylvia cooed, "To me, you'll always be Noel's little boy,"  
"Do not speak to me of that woman!" Stalart snapped, "Her breasts may be firm and supple, but she is a vile, hateful being!"  
"Yes, and you two got on so well," Sylvia said.  
"Where is that technician?" Stalart snapped, "Why aren't you trying to break into this computer module? It is said that Sylvia has a brain. I wish to see it before I destroy her!"  
"Actually, it's a bio-neural gel-pack, cutie-pie," Sylvia gently corrected.  
Stalart gestered.  
The Arcanian technician brough up his baby-sized jackhammer and started hammering away at the casing of Sylvia's module. But the neutronium-reinforced casing held. The same way it had held against the sledgehammer, the cutting torch, the disruptor beam and that freight train. Neutronium was almost impossible to work with, incredibly hard to come by and as such was rarely used in any abundance. But it was also virtually indestructible. Stalart wasn't sure just how Jeffery had managed, but the sometimes-bumbling engineer had made Sylvia's module nearly impenetrable.  
"You will do as I wish!" Stalart declared, standing over the small module as it was pummeled.  
"Sorry, sweetie," Sylvia's voice crackled slightly with static due to minor damage to the speaker, "You know I don't approve of world conquest,"  
"Unhook her!" Stalart snapped, flailing his stubby arms in fury.  
Klendar disconnected the cables connecting Sylvia to the Delori data network, his shoulders slumped in defeat.  
Sylvia had quickly changed from being a mere trophy to becoming indispensable to his plans for escaping this planet. His Delori thugs, working for him in exchange for either weapons or precious metals easily produced by his ships replicator, were doing an excellent job of fermenting unrest and chaos in the Delori country of Dufarndan. Control of the country was hardly his end goal, however. Even control of the planet wouldn't satisfy him. His people had studied the planet far longer than Starfleet had and knew perfectly well about the various temporal zones dividing the 7 continents. What they didn't know was what generated them. And that was the information they were most interested in. But with his ship damaged, Stalart couldn't exactly search for the source. Well, he could, but flying a damaged ship in a search for unknown and potentially dangerous technology was foolhardy, bordering on the insane. So he was reduced to gaining control over as much of Dufarndan as he could. With the more advanced (relatively speaking) Delori nation taken care of, there'd be nothing to stop him from getting his hands on the planet's temporal secret. His people, however, had been unable to penetrate the Delori defensive computer network sufficiently to make such a thing possible. Sylvia, however, had the capability to infiltrate the entire system, and thus gain full computer control over the Dufarndan and its entire military.  
If only he could get the damn bitch to cooperate!  
"I have a great recipe for a berry smoothy," Sylvia offered, "That would go down easier into your little tummy. I don't know where we're going to get strawberries, though,"  
"That does sound good," Klendar said.  
"Silence," Stalart snapped "Resume the torture attempts!"  
"Killjoy," Sylvia sighed.

Dr. Noel Wowryk sat in the command chair on Silverado's bridge, staring at the main viewscreen. The screen was functional, showing the bright, clear day outside. The sun was shining, the ocean was smooth and the Delori sky was a beautiful shade of blue. The only thing that kept it from being a perfect day was the fact that the saucer was sitting half-submerged in an ocean rather than flying through space.  
On the screen, Dr. Wowryk watched as 3 small watercraft moved away from the saucer.  
It had been just over a day since Stafford had made his decisions, sending Jall, Yanick and Jeffery to find a way to the stardrive section, presumably still in orbit of the planet. He'd also sent Noonan on his own to discover the secrets behind Delori's mysterious 7th continent while he himself had taken on the task of leading the Hazardous Team in a mission to recover Sylvia and thwart the plans of Lord Stalart and his Arcanians.  
"Why do I feel a little left out here?" Wowryk asked, drumming her fingers on the arm rest,"  
"Because we are being left out," T'Parief grumbled from Tactical. He'd been left in command of the saucer, but his tail just didn't fit in the command chair. If Wowryk wanted the feeling of power (and to sit in a seat quite possibly soaked with Stafford's sweat) then, in his opinion, all the power to her, "I am becoming used to it,"  
"What do you mean?" Wowryk asked, "That whole thing with Slezar and K'Eleese was totally centered on you!"  
"Yes, it was," T'Parief acknowledged, "But the year prior, I was left in a Dreamland limbo while you and the Captain battled the Matrians in the Dreamland and Pye and Stern battled the Matrian fleet in the real world. Completely left out,"  
"Hmm," Wowryk mused, "I suppose I was the center of attention, wasn't I?"  
"Strange how that happens," T'Parief mused, "Almost as though we each get our turn in the spotlight, so to speak,"  
"Don't get me started," Pye grumbled from the helm console, "I haven't gotten any attention since our first year aboard this ship!"  
"Shut up and drive," Wowryk said firmly. If she was going to be stuck on this half-ship, she sure wasn't going to have the patience to put up with upstart wanna-bes.  
"Right, drive," Pye said, engaging the maneuvering thrusters, "Do you have any idea how this thing handles in the water? It's like trying to ride a bike through quicksand!"

Yanick, Jeffery and Jall were in the first speedboat.  
Jeffery and Jall had checked the cargo manifest of the saucer and found that in Cargo Bay 3 they had the parts to build 4 small watercraft. Officially, they were for covert operations on low-tech planets protected by the Prime Directive. Unofficially, Jeffery was convinced Stafford had them added to the manifest just in case he found a planet suitable for waterskiing and had promptly forgotten about them.  
The boat had a primitive hydrogen fuel-cell engine and used an actual propeller to move it through the water, which Jeffery thought was laughable. Most decent civilizations had long-since discovered the secret of the magneto-hydrodynamic drive. Except for Earth, oddly enough. Though they had made a really neat movie based on it…something about some CIA agent chasing a submarine named the Red Octopus. Or the Bloody November. Or something like that.  
But back to the topic at hand. The three small boats were moving at full speed through the calm ocean. Far behind them, the saucer looked like a tiny, metal island, very slowly plowing its way through the water. Trails of steam were rising from two points on the trailing edge where the maneuvering thrusters were firing with enough heat to vaporize the ocean water. The boats could cover more ground in an hour than the saucer could cover in a day, but they only needed to get the saucer far away enough from the temporal nexus for the transporters to function within the Stupid Zone.  
"So what's the plan again?" Yanick asked, twirling her blond hair around one finger.  
"We had a plan?" Jall asked, scratching his head.  
"Wow," Jeffery sighed, "It's like it's contagious,"  
"What's contagious?" Yanick and Jall asked together.  
"Aye, we have a plan," Jeffery said, choosing to ignore the sudden Attack of the Blonds, "Thanks to the information Ah got from the Dufarndan data networks,"  
"Wouldn't it have been a good idea to give us a briefing before we left?" Jall asked, "You know, get us familiar with the plan objectives, maybe decide on a mission statement or something?"  
"We could have picked team names!" Yanick giggled, "We could be 'Jeffery's Jaguars'! Or 'Yanick's Yaks'!"  
"Or 'Jall's Genital Herpes'?" Jeffery muttered to himself.  
"What climbed up your ass and died?" Jall aked.  
Jeffery looked at the 'Differently Oriented' Operations Officer and wisely chose to hold his tongue. By which I mean he decided not to speak. Don't go thinking sick things here!  
"'Jeffery's Gentlemen!'" Yanick giggled, "Except I'm a girl!"  
This has to be Stafford's idea of revenge, Jeffery thought to himself, I made just one too many comments on his command abilities, and now he wants me to see what it's like  
"Oh, honey," Jall was saying, holding one of Yanick's dainty hands in his, "Didn't you have a chance to do your nails while we were on the ship?"  
"Don't be silly," Yanick said, "I was too busy waxing my thighs to even think about that!"  
This is why I spend so much time in Engineering, Jeffery inwardly groaned.  
"OK, listen up," he said sharply, making sure the auto-pilot was turned on before he took his hands off the wheel. He pulled out a padd and pulled up the mission plan, "Look, 2 years ago the Dufarndan government decided it was time to start a more detailed investigation into just why they only had access to one continent on their planet. They launched a space program: the Dufarndan Organization for the Recovery of Knowledge though Spaceflight. The D.O.R.K.S built and designed 3 different classes of spacecraft: an unmanned probe, a one-man capsule and a 3-man rocket."  
"I thought they didn't have spaceflight," Jall said, "That they were trapped in their temporal zones?"  
"Aye, exactly," Jeffery explained, "When they launched the probe, they remained in contact with it for only a few minutes after it reached orbit. After that they never heard from it again. Same thing with the one-man rocket. The poor bugger was never heard from again,"  
"Were they destroyed trying pass through the temporal barrier?" Jall asked.  
"Maybe," Jeffery shrugged, "Or more likely they were sent flying off course when they tried to cross the barrier. Same thing with any kind of re-entry trajectory."  
"What does sex have to do with this?" Yanick wanted to know.  
Jeffery looked at her blankly.  
"He said 'entry trajectory'," Jall whispered, "Not 'entry position',"  
"Oh, right," Yanick sighed, "I keep getting those mixed up. Like when I told Chris I was taking the ship into the Delta-sixty-nine entry position in relation to the starbase,"  
"He turned really red," Jall laughed.  
"What Ah', sayin'," Jeffery cut back in, "is that they never launched the third rocket! It's still sitting out there on the launch pad while they decide whether to launch the damned thing or to dismantle it!"  
"So, we're going to steal it?"  
"Aye," Jeffery said, "We turn on the fuel pumps, fill 'er up, light a match and blast ourselves into orbit. It'll be fun! Like the Saturn-V ride at 17-Flags Resort back on Earth,"  
"We've signed on to a mission where we have to ride a ball of exploding rocket fuel built by primitive, backwards aliens into orbit," Jall said to Yanick.  
They looked at Jeffery.

"Ahh, this is priceless," Stafford said, holding a pair of electro-binoculars to his face, watching as a heated, all-out argument erupted on Jeffery's boat.  
"Sir?" Stern asked.  
"Oh, I'm just enjoying the look on Simon's face," Stafford said, "This will teach the little bastard there's more to command than just coming up with plans and ordering people around. By the way, somebody tell Simmons that if he doesn't stop kicking my seatback I'm going to order him thrown overboard,"  
"Aye sir," Stern said. He promptly reached back and smacked Simmons upside the head.  
"Nice reach, Lieutenant," Stafford commented.  
"Thank you, sir,"  
"So what's our plan?" Stafford asked.  
Stern and Rengs exchanged glances.  
"Our plan?" Stern asked.  
"Maybe I should rephrase that," Stafford said, "How do you think we should do this,"  
"Respectfully, sir," Stern said, "You're the one in charge,"  
"Respectfully," Stafford repeated, "Huh. There's something new. But seriously, this team has more experience in this kind of operations than any of the senior staff, which is why I wanted you on this assignment. The mission is to retrieve Sylvia and capture or kill Stalart. How can we do this?"  
"Do we really want to kill him?" Marsden asked.  
"I'd rather capture him myself," Stafford said, "but you never know,"  
"And we're facing his crew of midgets along with whatever Delori thugs he has on his side," Stern said thoughtfully, "All armed with energy weapons,"  
"Yup,"  
"And presumably they have sensor devices that will pick us up a mile away,"  
"Maybe."  
"And we're outnumbered?"  
"I think so, yes," Stafford nodded.  
Stern exchanged glances with the rest of the team.  
"Um, maybe give us a few minutes on this one,"

Many hours later, after night had fallen, the three boats approached the Delori coast, carefully using their tricorders to avoid the Dufarndan coast guard. Noonan split apart from the others, following the coastline in the opposite direction.  
Of the three teams, his was the only solo mission. He was to cross the country of Dufarndan, which took up the entire continent contained in the Stupid Zone. Noonan preferred to think of it as the Computer-Age Zone, but of course he had been overruled.  
He had immediately determined that of the entire crew, he alone could carry out the mission, which essentially involved crossing the entire planet in as little time as possible. It hadn't been easy to convince Stafford to send him alone, but Stafford didn't realize that his entire plan depended on him moving alone, with no mortals to slow him down.  
He shut down the engines on his small speedboat and let it coast, then jumped out, landing knee-deep in water and soft mud. Noonan stepped onto shore and took a moment to get his bearings. He watched with interest as the boat slowly started drifting. He noted that the small boat was moving straight towards the distant saucer, though extremely slowly. Possibly another manifestation of the temporal barriers? Didn't really matter, did it?  
Bracing himself, Noonan prepared to bring one of his rarely used preternatural abilities into use. Stafford might have knowledge of some of his abilities, such as his ability to captivate and compel mortals, his exception eyesight and hearing and his ability to heal himself very rapidly. Life on a ship though had made many of his other talents unnecessary for the most part. His speed, for example. He began to move inland, running in mortal fashion to begin with. This was pleasant, he mused. A nice speed. One could easily enjoy the sights as they moved by. Of course, he could keep running long after the greatest mortal marathon runner had dropped from exhaustion.  
Sadly though, this pace wasn't what he needed. Bracing himself against what he knew to be a violation against nature, he began to move faster and faster. Soon the wind began to whistle in his ears as he picked up speed. The trees and bushes became a blur behind him. His feet moved so fast over the terrain he barely seemed to touch the ground.  
Moving though the forest at impossible speed, he oriented himself towards the nearest city, and thus the nearest airport. It would be close to a thousand years yet before he would have the power to take to the air. Only a combination of his own natural speed during the night and 21st Century-style aircraft during the day would get him to his destination in the timeframe he had in mind.

"Are you sure this is the right city?" Yanick asked Jeffery.  
"The tricorder says so," Jeffery shrugged.  
Using Jeffery's tricorder, they'd retraced their steps until they were back in the same city in which Yanick, Jeffery and Stafford had posed as a married trio. The first time they'd visited, the city had been very pleasant, though as they'd just crash landed after abandoning their crashing ship they really hadn't been in any mood to appreciate it. But the city had been vibrant and alive, with people coming and going on the streets, vendors selling local delicacies like 'Rat-on-a-Stick' or 'Iced Cheese'. But the people had been prosperous and the city and been thriving.  
Things had changed in the few days that they'd been away. The street vendors were gone, and those people who were on the street were hurrying on their way, spending no time chatting, shopping or doing any of the things relaxed people do. Some of them looked almost fearful, sneaking furtive glances over their shoulders and they hurried about their business.  
"Place is creepy," Jall commented.  
"Aye," Jeffery said, "Somethin's not right,"  
They continued walking towards the ground-car rental shop they'd used during their first visit to the city, back when Stafford, Yanick and Jeffery's escape pod had crashed down in the forest nearby. As they walked down the sidewalk though, they started to notice that everybody else on the street was moving increasingly quickly in the opposite direction.  
"Somethin's not right," Jeffery repeated.  
They came to an intersection and turned right, finding themselves faced with a horrific spectacle:  
Dozens of uniformed men were marching down the street, weapons clasped to their chests. As the three Starfleet officers watched in horror, several soldiers broke off from the main column, seizing any citizens who hadn't had the good sense to get away and roughly interrogating them on their loyalties. Most were forced into handcuffs and dragged along with the soldiers, only a few were allowed to go on their way. One group of soldiers chased a terrified woman into a nearby building, breaking down the door seconds after she'd locked it behind her.  
"We've gotta do something!" Jeffery cried, grabbing for the bag in which he was hiding his phaser.  
Immediately, Jall pushed him back around the corner, reaching out with one arm to yank Yanick to safely.  
"Don't be silly," Jall hissed, "There's three of us and about three dozen of them,"  
"But-"  
They ducked as an energy blast ripped through the sky.  
"Was that a disruptor blast?" Jeffery gasped.  
"Ohh yeah," Yanick said, "High powered too. Like the one my father had for duck hunting,"  
"Stalart's been busy," Jall said.  
"We knew he was trying to get a fight goin'," Jeffery said, "He was givin' weapons to criminals an' thugs,"  
"Looks like some of them were glad for the chance to play soldier," Jall said grimly as Jeffery led them away from the rampaging group.  
"But you always said you loved playing soldier," Yanick said dreamily, "You said it was one of your favorite fetish games-"  
"Ugh, for the love of God," Jeffery groaned, "Look, we're never gonna make the rental place now. We're just gonna have to improvise.  
"OK!" Jall said brightly. With that he grabbed a heavy chunk of stone off the ground, smashed the side window of a parked vehicle, unlocked it and opened the door.  
"Hop in!" he called.  
"Ah don't think Grand Theft Auto was what Ah had in mind!" Jeffery protested loudly. There was a shout from down the street as he was heard by several of the soldiers. Jeffery and Yanick ducked as disruptor blasts shot overhead.  
"OK, new plan," Jeffery gasped, diving in the back seat, "We steal a car and let Yanick drive!"  
"Why her?" Jall asked as he and Yanick quickly hot-wired the car.  
"Because her driving is deadly," Jeffery said, digging out his comm-badge, "And we're gonna need every edge we can get!"

"Got it," Stafford said, tapping his comm-badge and pulling it out of a pocket. He and the Hazardous Team, like the rest of the teams that had snuck into Dufarndan, had dressed in suitable attire. They'd left their boat in a small cove and had quickly made their way into the city. Now they were gathered in the corner of an abandoned warehouse, planning their attack, "Jeffery, try not to use phasers if you can help it. Better Stalart doesn't know we're here,"  
"Damn," Rengs swore, "I knew we forgot something!"  
"What was that?" Stern asked.  
"Guns! By the Prophets, who goes into a 21st-Centery era city without a gun?" Rengs fumed, "What an idiotic mistake,"  
"Jeffery's team is under attack from a group of Stalart's thugs," Stafford informed the rest, hiding his comm-badge away.  
"Technically sir, they're rebels," Marsden said helpfully, "Since they're trying to overthrow an established government,"  
Dar'ugal nodded eagerly, then proceeded to make a series of gestures.  
"Darg's right," Stern nodded, "Rebels might have advanced weapons, but the Delori military has them outnumbered. And they're vulnerable: If we take out Stalart we're taking out their leadership and their weapons supplier,"  
Stafford stared at the group.  
"Hold on," he said, "Which of you does what? Remind me."  
"Well," Stern said, "Rengs is our energy in energy weapons, Simmons has explosive munitions, Marsden is our hostage negotiator, Kreklor is hand-to-hand combat, I'm the sharpshooter and 2nd in command after Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief and Dar'ugal here is our expert in strategy and counter-strategy,"  
"That's what I thought," Stafford frowned, "And who's bright idea was it to give a mute being the strategist position? Doesn't he need to be able to give detailed instructions and stuff?"  
"Starfleet believes in equal opportunities for the differently-abled, sir," Stern reminded him stiffly, "Oh, s**t, now you've gone and hurt his feelings!"  
Dar'ugal was standing in the middle of the group, his weapon arm dangling limply to the ground, big tears filling his eyes.  
"I'm sorry, Ensign!" Stafford said, gulping, "I didn't mean…that was rude…I…s**t…"  
"You're going to have to give him a hug now," Simmons said, exchanging glances with Stern, "It's the only way to make him feel better,"  
"What?" Stafford looked uncomfortable, "A hug? I'm really not the hugging type!"  
Dar'ugal's eyes were big and watery, his lip trembled.  
"Oh fine," Stafford grumbled, "If only so I don't feel so guilty!"  
Dar'ugal seized him and gave him a hard squeeze. Stafford gasped, feeling like the life was being squeezed out of him by the 7-foot tall alien. When he was released, the Hazardous Team (Dar'ugal included) broke into fits of laughter.  
"What?" Stafford asked. He looked down. His cloths were covered in red hair. Apparently it was shedding season for the Baruda. Wait…Baruda?  
"What the hell is he doing here anyway?" Stafford exploded, "We left T'Parief on the ship because this is a primitive culture! We can't go running around with big lizards or hairy aliens that don't have heads!"  
"Oh, it's OK sir," Stern assured him, "He's got a disguise,"  
Dar'ugla pulled a large ballcap out of his bag and planted it firmly on his shoulders.  
"But…but…" Stafford gasped, "HE HAS NO HEAD!"  
"Trust us here sir," Simmons said, "We're the experts."  
Stafford's gaze passed from Stern, to Simmons and to Dar'ugal, then back again.  
"Let's get back to work," Stafford finally grumbled, trying to salvage the tattered remains of his dignity, "We have an evil rebel despot to take down,"

"I'm sorry, that flight is booked," the young woman at the ticket counter gave Noonan a tired smile, her high-pitched voice dragging a little. It was very early in the local morning after all; nearly dawn. The poor woman clearly didn't like working at such a foolish hour, "Perhaps you'd like to try again tomorrow?"  
"Tomorrow is really too late," Noonan said. He was leaning against the counter, fatigued from his high-speed run, "Are you sure there isn't something available on stand by?"  
"Nope," the woman, her name tag labeling her as Sinday, shrugged.  
Bracing himself inwardly, Noonan reached out with his mind.  
"I need the first available seat flying to the east coast," he said.  
"There just isn't anything, sir!" the woman said, startling to look exasperated, "Cross-continental trips are always booked solid!"  
Noonan started. It hadn't worked! He'd tried to use his persuasive abilities to influence her, as he had so many times before with countless mortals. But it hadn't worked! Was it possible that the Delori had some kind of natural defense against his mental abilities? Or maybe it was just people working in the service industry, he mused. It always seemed difficult, even for him, to get somebody working behind a counter to actually assist him with what he needed, rather than citing a dozen reasons why what he wanted was either impossible, against policy or just plain silly.  
No, that couldn't be it. Far more likely, he was weakened from his run and now didn't have the strength to properly affect her. And dawn was approaching! He'd be safe; he had his protective field generator and his skin cream, but his powers were always weaker during a planetary day.  
He had hoped to conserve his rations. He'd only been able to bring a limited amount of the fluid he needed to live. But very well.  
He pulled his thermal canister out of his knapsack, thumbing the activation switch that would power the tiny psionic energy generator, infusing the replicated substance with the life energy he needed.  
Nothing happened.  
Feeling a slow but sure feeling of panic, Noonan pulled off the tiny access panel that covered the generator. It was completely dead. Something, probably the various temporal anomalies on the planet, had shorted it out. Without the generator, he had no choice. He would have to do something he hadn't done in over a century.  
He would have to take a victim. And feed.

"I think we lost them," Yanick said.  
"How can ye be sure?" Jeffery said, "There are too many life signs in the city for the tricorder to tell me which are good and which are bad, the engine on this primitive junk heap is too loud for us to listen to those buggers chasing us and we have no radar or thermal imaging equipment handy!"  
"I used the rear-view mirror," Yanick said, tapping at the indicated item.  
"When Ah get back to the ship, Ah'm never leaving Engineering again," Jeffery vowed quietly to himself.  
"We're about an hour from the launch pad," Jall commented, "Would you care to fill us in on just how you plan to move a thousand gallons of hydrogen fuel into a rocket without anybody noticing?"  
"Er," Jeffery coloured.  
"'Er' what?" Jall asked, twisting in his seat to look back at Jeffery and steadying himself as Yanick took a turn just a bit too fast.  
"Ah haven't quite figured that part out yet," Jeffery admitted, "Ah figured I'd come up with something on the way there,"  
"You don't have a plan?" Jall snapped, then turned to Yanick, "He doesn't have a plan?" He turned back to Jeffery, "Why don't you have a plan?"  
"Well, Jeffery said, "This whole away-team planning thing is a bit harder than I thought. Ah'm more used to figuring out the techno-stuff while the rest of ye handle the other details,"  
"This is techno-stuff," Yanick pointed out.  
"Look," Jeffery said, "The data I found says the rocket's at the launch pad. The fuel facilities are right nearby. We just flip the 'on' switch on the pump and keep the Delori distracted while the tank fills, right?"  
Behind them there was a large explosion, the upper floors of one skyscraper bursting into flames.  
"I think Stalart already has the distraction part well under control," Jall sighed.

"Beta Squad reports they've taken control of Sector 3," a Delori rebel by the name of Bortus reported, "They haven't met any real resistance yet,"  
"They will," Stalart declared, sitting imperiously at the tiny desk he'd been provided, "The Dufarndan military is massing outside the city. Once they're ready, they will attempt to overrun our defensive positions. You will not have the strength to hold out on multiple fronts," he turned to Klendar, "Which is why we need control of the defense computers! If I cannot get computer control of the missile sites and military bases, this entire exercise is for nothing!"  
"We are working on it," Klendar said, "But we are having a great deal of difficulty. The security around their defense network is far greater than I would think them technologically capable of,"  
Stalart's eyes narrowed.  
"Really," he said flatly.  
Klendar nodded slowly.  
"You think perhaps they had…help?"  
"Help?" Klendar looked confused, "Who would help them? Your servants are loyal, my Lord,"  
"Yes," Stalart said, "But there are at least 3 Starfleet officers running around this country. Perhaps one of them?"  
"Sir," Bortus broke in, "My Lord, if there were aliens aiding the military, we would know of it!"  
"Doubtful," Stalart scoffed, "The only reason why your military knows I am helping you is because my crew was foolish enough to crash my ship in an easily found location." Indeed, the military cordon around his crashed vessel still existed, but a few functioning weapons and an intact shield generator were more then enough to keep them at bay while repairs continued. "No, somebody is helping them. Either the Starfleeters, or somebody we have not yet taken into account yet,"

"You know, Commander Jeffery," Jall said conversationally as they drove on, "If you'd been smart, you would have setup some kind of extra security around the Delori computer network. Something to stop Stalart from getting all this useful info you've been getting,"  
Jeffery grimaced.  
"Yer right," he said between clenched teeth, "It would have been smart. If Ah'd thought of it. Which Ah didn't. Maybe if ye'd been here instead of out camping with Noel ye could have done it yerself!"  
"Hey," Jall raised a hand, "No need to get touchy! It was just a thought,"  
"Keep yer thinkin' in yer own head,"  
"Ohhh," Yanick cut in, "Look at all the pretty lights,"  
They'd arrived at Dufarndan's D.O.R.K.S lauch pad. Launch pads, really. The complex was near the edge of the city, bordered by a thick forest. Aside from the three lauch pads there was a concrete bunker complex that Jeffery knew housed security teams, training facilities, accommadations for the astronauts and support staff and, of course, Launch Control. Conduits and cables ran from the launch pads in dozens of directions, no doubt used to bring fuel, oxygen, water and whatever else was needed to supply the space expeditions from secure storage right to the rockets themselves. The complex was surrounded by a tall chain-link perimeter fence. Two of the launch pads were empty, but on the third there stood-  
"What, that's IT?" Jall asked, sounding angry.  
"Aye, what's the problem?" Jeffery asked.  
"It's tiny!" Jall complained, "When you said rocket, I thought you really meant like a big old Saturn-V! This thing…it's…it's…"  
"Stop being such a size queen," Yanick said, smacking Jall playfully upside the head.  
The rocket in question wasn't very impressive. It certainly was nowhere near the size of the massive behemoth that had taken early Earth astronauts to the moon. On the other hand, it didn't have to be. The goal of the D.O.R.K.S was to get somebody in orbit to take readings on the planet, and this small rocket, barely the size of Zefran Cochrane's Pheonix, would do that job nicely.  
"There is NO way going into space in something that small and primitive is safe," Jall declared.  
"This is good," Jeffery muttered, ignoring Jall, "Main engine is just a hydrogen rocket. The boosters there are solid fuel."  
"Look how tiny it is," Jall said, eying the capsule at the top of the rocket in which the Delori astronauts had been intended to sit, "How can they fit five people in there? It's barely the size of a shuttle cockpit!"  
"Uh oh," Yanick said, "Somebody's seen us!"  
Several dark figures had come out of the control bunker and were moving towards their position, carrying flashlights and what looked like firearms.  
"Run!" Jeffery cried, pulling Yanick's arm.  
They rushed along the fence surrounding the launch complex, ducking behind trees and whatever cover they could find, their pursuers following and shouting fairly predictable stuff like 'Stop or I'll shoot!' and 'Get them!".  
Then they really DID shoot.  
"Holy crap!" Jall cried, ducking as a bullet whizzed past his ear, "Jeffery, I thought you said this place was low security!"  
"It is," Jeffery gulped, "This IS their idea of low security!"  
Jall pulled out his phaser, turned and fired. His shot struck one of the armed men, dropping him on the spot. The others immediately returned fire.  
"Chris said no phas-" Jeffery was cut off as a bullet hit him in the back, sending him pitching forward.  
"Simon, stop goofing around," Yanick complained as Jall hauled Jeffery back to his feet. As they resumed running, Jeffery gasped in pain.  
"That really hurt!" he said, surprised.  
"If you weren't wearing that body armor under your jacket, it would hurt a hell of a lot more," Jall pointed out.  
"At least we learned something from our last trip," Yanick said.  
"Well, they know we're not locals now," Jeffery said, gasping pathetically for breath, "Let's just stun them and get it over with,"  
The three of them pulled out their hand phasers and started shooting backwards. They had come to a service entrance and while the gate was closed, they were able to take refuge behind the guard station, hiding from a rain of bullets as the last few guards tried to take them out. Finally, a lucky shot by Yanick sent the last guard pitching forward.  
"You know," Yanick said, "I bet if we'd just talked to them we could have gotten out of here,"  
"No, we would have gotten arrested," Jeffery said.  
"Hmmm…21st Century prison…" Jall mused.  
"Ah don't even want to THINK about what ye mean by that," Jeffery said. He was running his hands over the unconscious bodies of the guards.  
"Hey, don't give me a hard time," Jall said, "You're the one feeling up a guy right now,"  
"Ah'm not feelin' him up," Jeffery snapped, "Ah'm looking for…here we go!"  
He'd pulled out a small security card.  
"Just to make our lives a tad easier, ye understand,"  
"We should take more than just the cards," Jall said thoughtfully.

Several minutes later, three darkly-clad Delori security guards were walking from the perimeter fence to the control center of the launch complex.  
"They're never going to fall for this," Jeffery groaned.  
"They ALWAYS fall for this," Yanick said, "Or they don't fall for it, but that was part of the plan, and he had a backup plan that he could use then. Or they didn't fall for it, but he were such a bad-ass he beat them anyway. Or-"  
"What IS she talking about?" Jeffery asked Jall out of the corner of his mouth.  
"Not sure," Jall replied, "Either James Bond or Austin Powers, I think,"  
They slipped in a side entrance into the building, Jeffery swiping the stolen card.  
"This is too easy," he said.  
SNICK!  
SNICK!  
SNICK!SNICK!SNICK!SNICK!SNICK!SNICK!SNICK!  
"Uh oh," Yanick moaned as the lights came up, revealing no fewer than a dozen security guards, automatic weapons pointed right at them.

Noonan stood near the observation windows of the airport, watching as the sky started to lighten. It would be dawn in less than an hour and not only was he not on the plane he wanted; his exertions had weakened him beyond his expectations. Once the sun came up he wouldn't be able to move much faster than the average mortal. The alternative…  
He shuddered. The alternative would be to sink his fangs into a poor, helpless Delori and feed.  
On a television in the corner, a news anchor was speaking.  
"And fighting continued in the west coast city of Dufarnekia through the night as rebels calling themselves 'Warriors of the Children' held tight control of the city. Military troops have been deployed, but unconfirmed reports show that the rebels are holding firm. We've also received word of uprisings in the cities of Derskarin, Eskandil and Bothowakish. In a related story, the Prime Chancellor has declared a state of emergency and urges citizens in all of Dufarndan to remain calm and to report any incidents in your local areas to the authorities"  
Things were falling horribly apart. He had one hope if he was to complete his mission. It was risky, of course. But it wasn't risky for him at all. Risky only for the victim he would choose. Very well, Noonan mused, Let us consider. Failure could lead to Stalart discovering the secret of this planet first. He has already indirectly killed many innocent Delori during his time here, he is no doubt going to be the cause of more deaths.  
The question was whether or not he'd be willing to cause one death in order to prevent others. If one was Vulcan, it was an easy question. One live vs. dozens. Logically, he'd be justified in taking as many lives as he needed, so long as in the end he killed fewer than Stalart would have. If one was Klingon, it didn't matter how many you killed, as long as you killed them honorable. If one was Andorian, the more corpses the merrier.  
Too bad Noonan wasn't any of those races. He was, well, he was what he was. And his people had caused more than their share of death. He'd been so lucky, technology allowing him to exist without bringing death, without causing the suffering of others. But then, as this experience was reminding him, that really wasn't the way he was meant to be, now was it?  
In the end, he realized, it came down to the fact that people, his friends, were counting on him. If he failed it wouldn't just be any deaths on his head. It could be their deaths. And that was something he was NOT willing to live with.  
He moved towards the men's washroom.  
Within, a single male Delori was cleaning his face with a bar of soap. Noonan moved casually towards the urinals, pretending to use one. OK. The trick here was just a matter of willpower. He'd have to stop feeding before the man died. Simple enough. Well, no. Not really. Better to ask a fat woman to stop eating halfway through a bucket of fried chicken. Noonan composed himself then moved, faster than the poor Delori could see, grasping the man's neck with careful gentleness, then driving his teeth into the man's flesh.  
WOW!  
He drew the blood out, hard. Images and memories washed over him as he drank up the Delori's existence: growing up in a small rural settlement, moving to the city to work in one of the factories, flying now homewards to visit with the relatives he longed to be with.  
It was everything Noonan needed, and had been needing. The live blood was richer, fuller and more energized than anything that could be produced with modern technology and he drew hard, unable to stop, his body screaming for that which it had been denied for so long.  
And when the Delori man died, the death hit him like a physical blow. He jerked free of the body, collapsing on the floor.  
He'd failed. He hadn't pulled away in time.  
He'd killed an innocent man.  
Tears forming, Noonan looked calmly at the corpse. Frowning, he noticed something in the man's pocket.  
If the Delori's death had been a physical blow, the next realization was a freight train plowing through the remains of his soul.  
A ticket. There was a plane ticket for the flight Noonan had wanted in the man's pocket. He could have struck him over the head, knocked him out, hidden him in a toilet stall and taken his place on the plane. With nobody the wiser.  
Struggling to maintain his composure, Noonan took the ticket. He walked calmly to the gate where he sat, waiting for the boarding call. When it sounded he boarded the aircraft, his revitalized powers making it easy for him to convince the gate attendant that the ticket was his. The poor woman didn't realize anything was wrong.  
Sitting in his seat as the aircraft took off, flying him towards the far shore of Dufarndan and most of the way towards his goal, none of the other passengers realized that inside, Noonan was screaming.

Stafford and the Hazardous Team crouched, weapons drawn, less than a kilometer from Stalart's hideout.  
"This isn't good," Stern was saying, eyeing his tricorder, "Stalart has nearly a hundred troops in that building. I'm getting transporter traces between him and his ship and readings that match up with a fusion power source well beyond Delori technology. No energy fields or mounted energy weapons yet though,"  
"He doesn't need them," Stafford said, "He's not staying. He's just using the Delori to keep everybody busy and distracted while he fixes his ship and figures out what's going on with this planet,"  
"How do you know that, sir?" Marsden asked.  
"I AM Captain for a reason, you know," Stafford said, looking a little offended, "If I didn't have at least some skills I wouldn't be here!"  
Dar'ugal gestured for several moments.  
"Dar'ugal agrees," Simmons translated.  
"Great," Stafford said. He fell silent, staring at the building.  
"How are the 7 of us going to take on over a hundred armed Delori?" he murmured, "How are we even going to get close enough to the building?"  
In the distance, they could hear gunfire and disruptor blasts as Delori rebels traded shots with the Delori military.  
"I guess we can't just call the teacher over and cry that Stalart started a fight on the playground," Rengs grumbled.  
"You've been living with your wife too long," Simmons cracked.  
Rengs stared at him.  
"What a stupid thing to say!" he exclaimed.  
"Oh my God!" Stafford groaned, letting his head fall onto the pile of debris they'd taken cover behind, "I've been such an idiot!"  
"Really?" Simmons asked, "I was going to say something, but-"  
Stern smacked Simmons upside the head again.  
Stafford turned to Stern.  
"This entire time, we've been completely forgetting about somebody. Somebody who could have helped turn this whole situation around before it even got this far!" he shook his head, "Somebody we should have gone to for help as soon as we saw what Stalart was doing!"  
"Who?" Stern asked.  
"Come on!" Stafford said, jumping to his feet and rushing down the street, weapon drawn.

Commander Henket of the 3rd Battalion of the Delori Citizen Guard ducked behind the wreckage of a transport truck as another one of the hellish beam weapons flashed over his head.  
"5 more rebels are joining the fight!" his second-in-command, Lower Commander Jertis called.  
They'd been sent to take control of the East Highway back from the rebels, helping to open the city to a larger military force that was already on its way.  
But the alien weapons the rebels had control of had tipped the balance of power against him, and his troop of two dozen soldiers had already been reduced by a third. He was just about to call the order to retreat when Jertis called out again.  
"Sir! SIR! Look at this!"  
Henket grabbed his binoculars and carefully looked around the edge of the transport truck.  
Bright red beams of energy were flashing into the rebel holdout. The beams were different from the ones the rebels had been using; these pierced the air, precise needle-like shots as opposed to the balls of energy shot by the rebel weapons. As he watched, seven dark figures rushed from behind an empty building, firing at the rebels.  
Before long, the rebel outpost had fallen silent. The figures turned to where Henket's forces were hiding. Henket gripped his firearm tightly, ready to call for his men to mow down these invaders before they could wipe out the last of his troops.  
His mouth drooped open as, one by one, the new arrivals raised their hands, weapons pointed up and away from his position. Two of the strange people were oddly shaped, one had a knarled forehead, the other appeared to be covered in red fur and was wearing a black cap.  
"Uh, we come in peace?" one of the taller strangers called.  
"Who are you?" Henket shouted, carefully easing out from behind the truck, gesturing for his men to follow him but keeping his weapon carefully trained on the speaker.  
"I'm Captain Christopher Stafford of the United Federation of Planets," Stafford said. Henket wasn't sure, but it looked like the man was fighting not to laugh, "Um, take me to your leader?"

Stafford and Hazardous Team were quickly but politely rushed into a large ground transport and driven several miles out of the city to where the Delori military had setup their staging point.  
It had been a simple realization, actually. The Prime Directive of Non-Interference prevented Starfleet officers from interfering with undeveloped worlds or from revealing themselves to primitive societies. And so Stafford had immediately dismissed any possibility of working with the Delori. Perhaps if there'd been less to worry about, if he hadn't been distracted with finding out what had happened to the ship, with getting back to what they had though was wreckage, if he hadn't been so delighted to find that at least half of his ship was intact a most if not all of his crew still alive, he might have realized that because Stalart had started f**king with Delori society, he was now free to take whatever steps he needed to help restore the balance.  
After being introduced to Commandant Grenor, commander of the Delori military operation to eliminate the new rebels, Stafford spilled the story, careful not to make any mention of the strange temporal zones that the Delori had no knowledge of. He told Grenor about how Stalart had attacked his ship in orbit, how both had crashed and how the survivors of his ship had made their way to the Central Sea while Stalart's crew had started pitting the Delori against each other in a bid to keep them out of the way.  
Grenor looked coldly at Stafford for several moments.  
"I'm not happy," he said, "To learn that all this has been for the amusement of some tiny alien with delusions of grandeur,"  
"Um, no," Stafford swallowed, "no reason why you should be. It sucks, it really does."  
"We have a city falling to ruin over there," Grenor snarled, pointing towards Dufarekia, "Why should I trust you?"  
"Um, well," Stafford said, "Uh, you saw my ship crash. I know you did. We found pictures of it in your data network, that's how we knew at least part of it was in one piece. You have an entire operation going to try and find it. And you've got people surrounding Stalart's ship!" he suddenly remembered how he, Yanick and Jeffery had snuck out to see the military cordon around Stalart's crashed ship. "And besides, we rescued a bunch of your people, right? And we have gadgets here that are totally beyond your technology. Um, no offense meant."  
"We had people surrounding the alien ship. Had." Grenor said, "We tried to rush them when they started repairing their ship. They started blowing up our tanks, so we retreated,"  
"They could have fixed their ship by now," Rengs said, worriedly.  
"You still haven't answered my question," Grenor said darkly, "Why should I trust you? Oh, I know you're aliens. We saw your ship crash. How do I know you're not here to cause as much trouble as those pint-sized bastards? Give me something, anything that proves you don't have anything to hide from us,"  
Stafford suddenly noticed that Grenor and his men were all very tense. Grenor was staring at him with small, crafty eyes, like he was expecting something of him. What the hell could he be hiding? Sure, he hadn't said anything about the temporal zones, but even the Delori didn't know about that. So what could they…  
"Jeffery!" Stafford suddenly realized, "I sent three of my officers to, er, borrow one of your rockets so we could try to get back to the other part of my ship! It's probably still in orbit right now!'  
Grenor let out a relieved sigh.  
"What?" Simmons looked around in confusion, "It's not a big deal, we just-"  
"We captured your team two hours ago," Grenor admitted, "They've refused to co-operate, but once we found you it didn't take much to connect the dots."  
"And if I hadn't told you about them?" Stafford asked.  
"We would have killed you all," Grenor shrugged, "for hiding things from us,"  
Rengs and Simmons went very pale.  
"Yay honesty," Marsden squeaked.

Jeffery, Yanick and Jall sat in their cell in the launch facility, staring at the walls.  
"Well, we wound up in prison," Jeffery said to Jall, "Ye happy yet?"  
Jall ran his eyes over Jeffery.  
"Not if you're the only prison bitch they have to offer,"  
Jeffery started, not sure if he should be relieved or offended.  
"I wonder what the conversion rate for prison bitches is on this planet," Jall mused, "I mean, I won't get much for you, but Yanick would sure turn a pretty penny,"  
Jeffery's angry reply was lost as the door slammed open.  
"Commander Jeffery, Lieutenant Jall, Ensign Yanick," Lower Commander Sendil, the facility commander, nodded politely, "Our apologies. You're free to complete your mission. If you'll follow me, launch control is this way,"  
"How do ye know our names?" Jeffery asked.  
"How do you know about our mission?" Jall demanded.  
"He has something shiny," Yanick said dreamily.  
Sendil handed Jeffery his comm-badge, the gold and silver metal glinting in the light.  
"We appear to be allies now," he said.

Jeffery called Stafford on the comm and confirmed Sendil's statement.  
"We need to get somebody up on the stardrive section, Simon," Stafford said, "According to Commandant Grenor, Stalart's people are making fast progress on repairing their ship. Their last scout saw them re-attaching the warp nacelle that had come of in the landing. There's no way the saucer is going to help us in a fight."  
"Got it," Jeffery said.  
They followed Sendil to the Launch Control Room. The place was a hub of activity with Delori workers pulling dust covers off equipment and powering it up. As they watched, one of the huge screens at the front of the room flickered to life, showing a diagram of the rocket on the pad.  
"We didn't expect to need this room again," Sendil informed them, "We'd given up after losing our first astronaut. The only reason why we're back here is to keep the place from falling into rebel hands. I sure hope you guys know what you're doing."  
"Spaceflight is our middle name," Jeffery said.  
"Really?" Sendil asked, curious, "All three of you? Are you perhaps mated?"  
"Figure of speech," Jeffery said.  
"And what is WITH the three person marriages you people have?" Jall asked.  
"Doesn't everybody marry that way?" Sendil asked.  
"How long until we can launch?" Jeffery asked, ignoring him.  
"Fueling will be complete in three hours," Sendil said, "But we need to check out the rocket systems,"  
"Ah can help," Jeffery said, pulling out his tricorder and the engineering kit the Delori had returned to him, "I'll have that baby purring like a kitten,"  
"Doing what like a what?" Sindel scratched his head.

"Stalart and his people are holed up here," Stern said, pointing at a primitive paper map the Delori officers had stretched out on a table, "They're using this warehouse as a base of operations,"  
"What makes you so sure," Grenor grunted, "Our long-range reconnaissance drones only show light rebel activity in that section of the city,"  
"We know," Stafford help up his tricorder, "The Arcanians have technology that allows them to teleport from place to place. That's how they got past the blockade of your ship,"  
"Do you have this technology?" Commander Henket asked.  
"We do, but, um," Stafford wasn't sure how to explain that the temporal interference was causing problems with the transporters without mentioning the temporal interference, "It's not working very well right now," he finished rather lamely.  
"If we can seize control of this facility," Stern continued, tapping the map, "We can cut off the head of the rebels. Then it's just up to you folks to mop things up,"  
"If your teleportation technology can get us closer to the rebel stronghold, we'll have a better chance," Grenor said.  
"If the saucer has gotten close enough to the city, we may have better luck," Rengs suggested.  
"Worth a shot," Stafford agreed, "Stafford to T'Parief,"  
"T'Parief here,"  
"Status?"  
"Ensign Pye continues to move the saucer towards the city, but it is very slow going," T'Parief reported.  
"Are the transporters up and running yet?"  
"One moment." There was silence on the line as T'Parief checked with somebody else.  
"No," he replied, "It will be several more hours,"  
"Fine," Stafford sighed, "Stafford out,"  
He shrugged.  
"Soon, anyway," he said.  
"I bet those folks on the ship are getting pretty bored," Marsden mused.

"Back to our match," T'Parief said calmly, having just closed the comm channel. He and Wowryk had placed a small table on the bridge in front of the command chairs. Playing cards had been spread out across the surface and both he and Wowryk had several cards in hand.  
"Whatcha playing?" Pye asked.  
"It is an Earth game of great concentration and skill," T'Parief grumbled, "A game that requires stamina, talent and a thirst for victory,"  
He paused, regarded his cards, then turned to Wowryk.  
"You may Go Fish,"

"Well, the controls look easy enough," Jall mused. He was seated in the pilot seat of the Delori rocket, which he'd christened the Sparrow. "Up, down, left, right. Transistorized navigational computer, funny weird balls that spin. Not exactly rocket science,"  
Jeffery rolled his eyes and Jall went into quiet hysterics. Jeffery was crouched outside the hatch, having just finished running the systems check. The cover plate for the navigational computer had been pulled off and several wires now ran into Jall's tricorder instead.  
"So yer sure yer not going to have any problem piloting this thing?" he asked.  
"Nope," Jall shrugged, "As soon as we clear the interference, the tricorder is set to home in on the emergency beacon on the stardrive section. As long as I get a lock before the second stage runs out of fuel, I can pick an orbit trajectory that'll take me right to it,"  
"Good," Jeffery nodded, "Glad to see Chris was right when he said yer smarter then ye usually act,"  
Jall arched an eyebrow.  
"He really said that?"  
"Uh, sure," Jeffery looked away. Stafford had actually said 'Dear God, I hope that moron is smarter than he acts'. But no point in telling Jall that.  
"So why am I piloting this thing instead of Yanick?" Jall asked.  
"Simple reason," Jeffery said. He stood and hit the control to close the hatch.  
Jall's shout of protest was lost as the hatch sealed itself with several clicks.  
Jeffery had just made it to the gantry elevator when his comm-badge beeped.  
"Jall to Jeffery,"  
Jeffery tapped the badge.  
"Aye?"  
"WHAT THE F**K ARE YOU DOING?"  
"Sorry Lieutenant," Jeffery shrugged, "Ah'm not sending Yanick up there to run around an abandoned starships and Ah'm needed here to make sure everything goes OK with the launch.  
"I am NOT riding this tin can solo!"  
"Sure ye are," Jeffery said, "And that's an order,"  
"You are SUCH a dick!" Jall shouted.  
"Launch is at T minutes 30 minutes," Jeffery said, trying hard to keep a wide grin off his face, "Better buckle yer seatbelt!"  
Jall's reply will not be repeated.

"So he really volunteered to fly up there alone?" Yanick asked, sitting in Launch Control and playing the Delori version of 'Space Invaders' on her console. Amazing how similar some cultures could be.  
"Sure did," Jeffery said calmly, sitting down at the neighboring console and wincing as he saw he was going to have to use an actual keyboard, "Said he just couldn't let us risk ourselves,"  
"Uh-huh," Yanick said, not sounding convinced as she used her tiny tank to blow up an alien mothership (saucer shaped, of course), "You might wanna rethink that claim when you tell Chris. He's never going to believe that Jall would risk himself for somebody else. Unless he thought it would get him laid,"  
"Whatever," Jeffery sighed. He looked at Yanick, "Do ye think I went a wee bit too far? Forcin' him into this?"  
Yanick shrugged.  
"Would he have done it anyway if you'd ordered him to?"  
"Ah dunno,"  
"Then maybe it's just as well that you forced him into it," Yanick said, turning to give her full attention to her game.  
"T-10 minutes," one of the Delori controllers announced.  
"There's no way he can get out of that thing, right?" Jall asked Sendil.  
"Unlikely," Sendil said, looking a little uncomfortable with the whole situation, "But if he is a talented and intelligent person, he may find a way,"

"I'm never going to get this f**king hatch open," Jall groaned. He looked around the tiny cockpit. Hmm. A space suit was hanging in one corner. Huh. It wouldn't be easy to put on himself, but it would probably be a good idea.

"30 seconds," Sendil announced.  
"Jall?" Jeffery asked cautiously, "Buddy? Ye ready?"  
"I am NOT your buddy!" Jall's acid voice came back, "Let me out of this tin can, you a**hole! You can't honestly expect somebody to survive being strapped to the front of a glorified Roman Candle?"  
"People did it in the 20th Century all the time," Jeffery said, "By the way, 10 seconds,"  
"Wait!" Jall cried, "I haven't figured out how to get this stupid helmet-"  
With a rumble felt throughout the complex, from Jall in the tiny capsule to Jeffery and Yanick deep in the control bunker, the rocket ignited a huge burst of flame swelling from the base of the booster engines.  
"Ignition!" Jeffery cried.  
"What?" Yanick and Sendil asked.  
"Shut up!" Jeffery hissed, "Ah've always wanted to do this!"  
The rocket seemed to vibrate on the launch pad, then slowly began to rise. Gantries fell away and support lines disconnected as the rocket picked up speed, clearing the launch pad.  
"Blast-off!" Jeffery laughed.

"Do you hear that?" Stafford asked, turning to Stern as they traveled from the Delori base to the point they had chosen to be their entry into the Stalart-contolled city?  
"That deep rumbling?" Stern asked.  
"It's coming from that way," Marsden pointed.  
As they watched, they could see an indistinct shape rising through the air on a pillar of fire, spearing straight up towards the sky.  
"No, not that," Stafford frowned.  
"I think it's your comm-badge," Rengs said.  
Fishing out of his pocket, Stafford pulled out the badge.  
"AHHHHHHH!" Jall's tinny voice screamed.  
He was about to open a channel and tell his Operations Officer to stop being such a baby when he stopped, set the comm-badge down and leaned back, hands behind his head.  
"Sir?" Stern asked.  
"Shhhh," Stafford put his finger to his lips, "Let me enjoy this,"

"Now what?" Yanick asked. They'd watched the status readouts in the Delori launch control as the rocket gained altitude. The launch facility did have a telescope, which had been tracking the rocket. They watched as it passed the layer of temporal interference, going slightly off course before Jall corrected the trajectory. The telescope couldn't find any hint of the stardrive section, and soon the rocket was out of sight, having passed over the planetary horizon.  
"Now we wait," Jeffery shrugged. Their tiny comm-badges couldn't punch through the interference. There could be no communication with Jall, which was something of a relief as the screaming really had been getting on Jeffery's nerves.  
"Ah don't suppose ye people have ever heard of 'Doom', huh?" Jeffery asked, eyeing the huge screen at the front of launch control,"  
The Delori looked at him blankly.  
"Forget it," Jeffery sighed.

"So here's my plan," Stafford said, addressing the Hazardous Team and the contingent of Delori troops that had accompanied them. He paused, "Well, actually it was the HT here that came up with the plan. So it's not really 'my' plan. But it's still the plan,"  
The Delori soldiers stood stiffly at attention, their eyes staring straight ahead, faces blank.  
"Wow, talk about discipline," Stafford mused, looking over to where Simmons was picking his nose, "Don't suppose I could leave these guys here with you for a few months, huh?" he chuckled.  
The Delori didn't move.  
"Tough crowd," Stafford winced quietly, "Oh, so the plan is this: The Delori will attack Stalart's headquarters. You'll be attacking from as great a distance as you can using those…what do you call those primitive explosive thingies?"  
"Rocket propelled grenades, SIR!" cried the Delori in unison.  
"Right," Stafford said, "Those things. The ones you can shoot from a distance so it's more difficult for Stalart's people to disintegrate you or something. Just try to avoid blowing any of us up instead, hmmm?"  
"SIR, YES SIR!"  
"These people are making us look bad," Rengs said out of the corner of his mouth.  
"While you're distracting the rebels," Stafford went on, "The Hazardous Team and I will penetrate-"  
"Heh heh," Simmons giggled, "He said 'penetrate'," Rengs elbowed him in the gut.  
"Will penetrate," Stafford repeated, teeth clenched, "Stalart's headquarters, take out the little pissant and retrieve Sylvia. Any questions?"  
The Delori were silent.  
Simmons raised one hand.  
"Anybody ELSE?" Stafford asked tiredly.  
Nobody.  
"OK, let's move,"  
As one, the Delori gave their salute; bring their hands up in front of their chests, parallel to the ground and giving a curt nod. They quickly filed out, grabbing the weapons they would need.  
The Hazardous Team gave a half-hearted series of salutes (Simmons nearly knocking himself out with his phaser rifle) before giving up and trudging after the Delori.

Noonan sat in the cockpit of a small jet aircraft. He'd commandeered the vehicle after arriving on the east coast of Dufarndan. He'd made excellent time, thanks to the Delori aviation technology. Now all that remained was for him to cross the sixteen hundred kilometer sea between Dufarndan and the unknown seventh continent. The jet wasn't nearly as fast as the cross-continental express jet he'd had to use to cross Dufarndan itself, but it would still fast enough to make the trip in mere hours.  
As he looked out the window, eyes protected from the sun by special sunglasses and his protective field, he mentally summarized what was known about the seventh continent.  
It appeared, from orbit, to be uninhabited. However, the interference around the planet had forced Fifebee to search for signs of civilization using artificial lights. Dufarndan had stood out, its many cities blazing in the night. The other continents had also stood out from a variety of light sources, from large fires to gas and oil lamps. Harder to detect from orbit, but detectible. Especially when you had city-sized concentrations like Lord Dyer's kingdom or the great city ruled by King Chupawhatever. Of course, nobody on Silverado had had any idea that the different types of illumination were caused by each continent being trapped in a specific age.  
They also knew that the seventh continent likely contained a temporal nexus, similar to the one the saucer had passed through on the way down. The two nexus' had to be the key of Delorea 2's strange temporal fracturing.  
But who he would encounter, if anybody, that was a complete mystery to Noonan.  
He swallowed, trying to fight back the thirst. It had come back with a vengeance, even though it had been less than a day since he fed. Focusing ahead of the jet and trying to ignore it, Noonan watched as he neared the faint shimmer in the air that marked the temporal barrier. He knew that his aircraft could pass through it, as long as he was aboard, and that the second he disembarked the aircraft would be snapped back to Dufarndan.  
Hmmm. The barrier didn't seem to be coming any closer. How odd.

The ground shook as Stafford and the HT ran, ducking behind cover and trying to avoid being shot.  
They'd met little resistance as they'd entered the city, Stern having used his tricorder to track Stalart's rebel troop movements. The HT had quickly stunned any rebels they'd come across. As they neared Stalart's headquarters though, the number of rebels they'd encountered had increased dramatically until the Delori had been forced to stop and setup their launchers. Stafford could only hope that any civilians in the area had heard the loudly announced warnings and left in the few minutes before the attack started.  
They ducked as one of the grenades hit the warehouse next to Stalart's, bringing a large section of the roof crashing down.  
"Dammit!" Stafford swore, "They're supposed to distract him, not blow him up!"  
"Stalart's not going to let them do any damage," Stern said, "He'll have his position fortified. At least as much as he can without attracting attention to the fact that he's here,"  
"We know that!" Stafford said, firing his phaser at a group of approaching rebels, "We just have to hope he was anticipating Delori machine guns and ground troops, not phasers and a, er, highly trained assault team!"  
As they watched, a Delori RPG flew towards Stalart's building, only to be shot down, detonating in mid-air.  
"See?" Stern said.  
"That entrance, there, on the north side!" Mardsen called out, translating Dar'ugal's frantic gestures, "That's our entry point!"  
"Shut UP Simmons!" Stern snapped as Simmons opened his mouth to give his standard rude comment. 'Entry point' was, admittedly, a hard phrase to resist making fun of.  
Another group of Delori rebels rounded the corner of the building, heading towards the source of the rocket fire. This time, Stafford and the HT hid behind the collapsed wall of a nearby building. They rebels ran right past them, leaving the way clear.  
"Hold on," Stafford said. He set his phaser for wide-beam stun and fired at the rebels, catching them all in the back.  
"I need our distraction to last," he shrugged.  
They ran towards the entrance.

Noonan was frowning.  
The temporal barrier, according to his tricorder, was actually stretching, following his aircraft as it flew towards the seventh continent. This wasn't too surprising; they'd witnessed a similar event when the different groups of crewmember had converged on the saucer. But Noonan knew that sooner or later, the barrier would have to stop, lest it push too far into the domain of whatever was on the other side.  
Even as he thought this, the barrier froze. His small jet flew right through it, rocking slightly by the temporal energy and…  
Revealing a second barrier! This one was darker; more solid. And probably not as easy to penetrate.  
Reacting with lighting reflexes, Noonan tried to pull up, to slip the aircraft into the slim space between the two barriers. He failed miserably, the jet crashing into the second barrier. This time the aircraft shook like a toy caught in the jaws of a dog, alarms going off as the jet bucked. Outside the windows Noonan could see ground beneath him…he was there! Glancing at his gauges, Noonan realized that both engines had failed. He tried to restart them…nothing. Even as he watched, the controls went dead one by one and the plane started to drop.

Rengs ducked as another round of Delori rockets soared towards the building Stalart had chosen as his headquarters. Energy weapons fire took most of them out, but one rocket did make it though, clipping a neighboring building and shaking the ground as it detonated.  
"You've got to admit," he said tightly, "They're doing pretty good, considering all they have is glorified gunpowder!"  
"A little too good," Stern said, wincing as Stafford yanked a sharp piece of shrapnel out of his armored vest. Blood dripped from the end.  
"You OK, Lieutenant?" Stafford asked.  
"Just peachy!" Stern said, bringing up his phaser rifle and blasting away the doors leading into the building.  
They rushed in.

"How could we possibly be under attack?" Stalart cursed, pacing the corner of the large open space he'd been using as his control center as the alert siren rang, "The Delori military is too busy surrounding our ship and searching for whatever's left of Silverado to even consider looking for us here! I have purposefully avoided outfitting this decrepit facility with advanced technology to avoid attracting attention! How could they find us?"  
"My Lord," Klendar said nervously, "I honestly know not. But there is at least one full platoon of Delori soldiers firing at us! Our sentries are too busy trying to shoot down primitive projectiles to mount a counter-offensive!"  
"Call in our forces from other points in the city," Stalart snapped, looking up, up, WAY up at the Delori liason, "Get your people over here to defend us!"  
The Delori swallowed.  
"Is that wise, my Lord?" he asked, "If the military is-"  
"If the military takes this facility, you imbecile, you won't find energy weapons quite so easy to come by!' Stalart snapped.  
"At once, sir," the rebel saluted and ran off to call for reinforcements.  
Another alarm went off, this one sounding more urgent.  
"What is it NOW?" Stalart snapped.  
"Perimeter alert!" Klendar cried, "We have armed intruders entering the building," he tapped at his panel, "They're breaking through our defenses!"  
Nearby, Sylvia sat quietly in her module, connected to the Delori defense computers. She'd tapped in once before, taking the time she could to reinforce their virtual defenses, making it impossible for Stalart to break in without her (rather brilliant thinking if she did say so herself). She had of course refused to break into the Delori network, after which Stalart had had people watching her very closely to ensure she didn't do anything…foolish. Little did they know she had already been working to undermine them!  
Very, very quietly, she tapped into the Dufarndan defense networks. Within seconds she'd brought herself up to date on what she could. She saw records of the Delori launching a rocket into orbit, though the reason for that wasn't recorded. She also saw the requisitions and troop orders for the attack on Stalart's headquarters, to be led by 'External Specialists', whatever that meant. Still curious about the rocket, she tapped into the Launch Control systems.  
She almost squeaked in surprise! Right on the surveillance camera she could see Jeffery and Yanick, sitting right in the middle of a group of Delori!  
But if they were working with the inhabitants of the planet, could that mean that the 'External Specialists were-  
The doors to the command center blew inward, falling to the floor with a loud clang. A loud, hoarse voice cried out as several figures in Starfleet light body armor stormed into the room.  
"STALART!"  
Captain Christopher Stafford stood, flanked by the Hazardous Team, all of whom had their weapons trained on Stalart or on his minions.  
"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Stafford screamed.  
"Oh, how unpleasant," Stalart cursed. He looked around frantically. Sylvia's module was too far away to serve as a suitable hostage and most of his forces had taken to the roof to shoot down Delori rockets.  
"You kidnapped a member of my crew," Stafford ranted, "You tried to destroy my ship! You tried to kill the rest of us!"  
"He's been a very naughty little boy," Sylvia agreed.  
"And you think killing me will make things better?" Stalart asked, putting as much scorn into his voice as he could.  
"No," Stafford admitted, "But I think it will make ME feel better!"  
"Oh, how primitive," Stalart said. There! On the table, not two feet away, was his communications device. If he could just keep Stafford busy...  
"You know," Stalart said, "I really must congratulate you. It seems that at least some of your crew survived the…unpleasantness…of the other temporal zones? I imaging some of them must be positively barbaric!"  
"And how would you know?" Stafford demanded.  
"We've been studying the planet for some time," Stalart admitted, "One doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what AH-HAH!"  
Stafford was too stunned by Stalart's sudden shout to realize that the tiny dictator had lunged for a small device on the table. As he squeezed it in one hand he vanished in the sparkles of a transporter beam. The other Arcanian crewmembers that had been cowering from the HT's phaser rifles likewise vanished.  
"DAMMIT!" Stafford swore, "The little bastard got away!"  
"He didn't get away with everything," Sylvia said.  
"Sylvia!" Stafford's expression of rage turned into relief, "My God, you're OK!"  
"Fit as a fiddle," she replied brightly, "Although it's going to take Simon some time to get all these dents out of my casing. Thank God for neutronium reinforcements!"  
"Yeah," Stafford agreed. He turned to the HT, "Send a signal to Commandant Grenor. Tell him Stalart's retreated to his ship and that we need reinforcements,"  
"Aye, sir,"  
"Oh, and better remind Henket not to blow up this building while you're at it,"

Noonan pulled himself out of the wreckage of the crashed jet. He'd thought he'd done pretty well, all things considering. The jet was smashed almost beyond recognition, but he was still alive. A human might even have survived that crash!  
On the other hand, that was the second time he'd crash-landed on Delrea 2. It really wasn't much more fun the second time around.  
Squinting in the brilliant sunlight and increasing power to his small field generator (bursting into flames would be really counter-productive) he stumbled over the ground. As his sunglasses auto-adjusted and the world came into focus, Noonan gasped.  
It was a city.  
A massive, sprawling city with towers that rose into the sky, the buildings growing taller and taller towards the center. The very center of the city contained what could only be the Temporal Nexus. The huge structure was roughly cylindrical, built out of a dark metal with rows upon rows of tiny, glowing green lights. Six flared projections speared out, evenly spaced. Beams of pure energy speared out of each projection, shining out in all directions. Noonan turned and found that the coastline several miles behind him was ringed with what you could almost call a fence. Except that this fence was roughly half a mile high. The upper rim glowed a brilliant green, emitting a dark, bubble-like dome of energy over the city. It was this dome, Noonan realized, that he had crashed into and which had disabled his aircraft. The presence of the dome had also, he figured, blocked Fifebee from getting any visual images of the continent to use for her light source search. Noonan could see that the nearest energy beam being emitted from the Temporal Nexus was flowing into a huge receptacle built into this outer fence. Beyond the fence, perfectly in line with the energy beam, a shimmering wall of temporal energy stretched into the distance. This arrangement then, with the central Nexus generating energy which was then being fed into the ring-shaped fence/temporal energy emitter, was the cause of the time fractures splitting the planet. There must be a similar structure beneath the surface of the Central Sea, or else some kind of energy waveguide, collecting the energy and thrusting it through the planet's core and back to this generator.  
It was mind-boggling. The energy dome over the city, which covered an entire continent by the way, was impressive enough. But to transform the entire planet? What could the Delori, or whomever lived in the city, possible hope to accomplish?  
"Who are you?"  
Noonan spun around again. A Delori man stood there, staring not at him but at the wreckage of his aircraft.  
"Did you come from Dufarndan?"  
Noonan slowly nodded. The man looked shocked.  
"This isn't possible!" he said, "The exhibits can't cross the barriers!"  
"I am not from Dufarndan," Noonan said.  
"It doesn't matter," the man said, wringing his hands, "You must come with me!"  
"Where?"  
"To the Council of Curators,"  
Deciding that was probably the best way to get the answers he needed, Noonan nodded.  
The man tapped a wrist control and spoke briefly but hurriedly. The squawk of surprise Noonan heard through the comm unit emphasized the point that the inhabitants of the seventh continent really weren't expecting visitors.  
The world shimmered briefly. Noonan realized he had been seized by a transporter beam. When he rematerialized, he was standing in a circular room with a domed ceiling. Several Delori surrounded him, seated behind small, compact desks. One side of the room had a high, arching entrance while the other had a blank video screen. Clearly his arrival had interrupted a meeting of some kind. The Delori said nothing, simply staring at him.  
"Greetings," he said, deciding to take the initiative, "I am Commander Matthew Noonan of the Federation Starship Silverado,"  
One man, the oldest, looked annoyed.  
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, "Didn't you see the sign that read 'Employees Only'?"  
Noonan blinked.

"T'Parief to Stafford,"  
"Yeah?" Stafford was following the HT, Sylvia slung under one arm as they moved through Stalart's abandoned building, taking out the remaining defenders.  
"We have a problem,"  
"How about some specifics?" Stafford said dryly, "Like 'Captain, we're out of toilet paper'? Or 'Captain, Jall's sitting in my chair'?"  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Captain," T'Parief's voice came back, "Lord Stalart's ship has lifted off the planet surface and en route to your position. His weapons are armed."  
"Ohhh s**t," Marsden groaned.  
"Don't suppose you're able to use the transporters yet?" Stafford asked quickly.  
"Negative,"  
"Is he in phaser range?" Stern called.  
"The curvature of the planet is blocking our shot," T'Parief said.  
"Call us back if you have some GOOD news!" Stafford snapped, closing the channel. He looked around at his security team. "Soo, any thoughts?"  
"We're boned," they replied together.  
They came through the last door leading to the roof, stunning the last of the Delori rebels. Half a kilometer away Stafford's tricorder showed two masses of Delori life-signs. Probably the rebel reinforcements fighting with the military reinforcements. Stern pointed out Stalart's ship, a tiny speck in the distance, as it moved in their direction.  
"It's picking up speed," Stern said, "ETA, 2 minutes,"  
"Can you contact Henket and the Delori?" Stafford asked, "If they can fire those rocket thingies at Stalart-"  
"Even if they had...oh, what did they call them," Simmons scratched his head, "Surface to air missiles, they wouldn't put a dent in Stalart's shields. Even bare hull could take several shots,"  
"Let's start running," Marsden suggested.  
"Right," Stern said, "Then we can be UNDER the destroyed rubble of the building being crushed to death instead of being vaporized by his phaser blasts,"  
"Gentlemen," Stafford sighed as Stalart's ship bore down them, weapons ports glowing, "It's been an honour…"  
He shook Stern's hand, then moved on the Marsden, Rengs and Simmons. The Kreklor, he gave the Klingon salute.  
"We die with honour," Kreklor said, bowing slightly.  
"I'd really rather not die at all," Simmons gulped.  
Stafford's comm-badge started to crackle.  
"What the hell are you idiots doing, sight-seeing?"  
"Chris!" Sylvia cried, "Up! Straight up"  
Stafford craned his neck, raising his hand to block the sun.  
"HOLY SHIT!" Stern screamed.  
Silverado's stardrive section was soaring straight down towards them.  
"What the…JALL?" Stafford cried.  
"In the flesh, no thanks to the a**hole engineer!" Jall's voice came from the comm-badge, "Now, I'm guessing you want us to shoot down that little bastard's ship?"  
"YES!"  
"Gotcha,"  
Still high above the city the stardrive pulled out of its dive, the impulse engines flaring a brilliant red as they struggled to keep the massive section of ship in the sky. Without the saucer, the stardrive section looked bizarre, the warp nacelles looking huge next to the engineering hull, the 'neck' that connected to the saucer not seeming to have any real purpose, just sticking forward and up for no apparent reason. As Stafford watched, phaser beams shot out from the lower emitters, crashing against Stalart's shields and knocking the small ship off-course.  
Stalart returned fire, his weapons splashing off Silverado's shields, but Stafford could see the ship shake.  
"Jall, if you crash the OTHER half of the ship-"  
He was cut off as the world vanished in a haze of transporter sparkles.

"Get the shields back up!" Jall snapped.  
"Done," Fifebee replied, as Stafford and the HT materialized in Main Engineering.  
"Fifebee!" Stafford laughed, running to his science officer and throwing his arms around her, "You're OK!"  
"I am," she said, "But if you don't release me so I may assist him, Jall will likely crash the ship,"  
"Will not!"  
"Will too!"  
"Take us out of the atmosphere, back into orbit," Stafford ordered, spotting Jall hunched behind a console he'd configured to serve as the helm, "Stern, get your people helping!"  
As the HT dispersed around the engine room to monitor systems and assist with the task of flying the ship, the vessel shook as Stalart hit them with another phaser blast.  
"Above a city is NOT the place for battle!" Kreklor snapped, pissed that he wasn't getting an honorable death after all.

As the stardrive section gained altitude, making for space (where a starship really should be, after all), Stalart's ship was flying east.  
It is time to get what we came for and leave," Stalart thought-spoke, the vocabulator no longer needed as he was with his own people. The ship still wasn't fully repaired, and their chances of being destroyed were now much, much greater, but Stafford had forced his hand. To the seventh continent!

"No, I didn't see the sign," Noonan said slowly, "Perhaps-"  
"Perhaps nothing!" another Delori councilor broke in, "Visitors must remain within the exhibits, and for the love of God, don't touch anything!"  
Exhibits?  
OK, time to get back to basics.  
"What is this place?" Noonan asked, "What has happened to this planet?"  
"What do you mean?" the Delori asked, "Didn't you see the sign?"  
"What sign?"  
"This is our Museum of the Ages," the second Delori, the one Noonan was starting to think of as 'the Rational One', "We built it as a showcase to our culture, to show how we came to be the great civilization that we are. Although," he admitted, "We didn't intend to open it to the public. How did you get in, anyway?"  
"Our ship was attacked," Noonan explained, "We crashed. It really wasn't our plan to visit your…museum…"  
"Then," the first Delori was speaking again, "you didn't know that the different areas of the planet were intentionally kept at specific time frames? You didn't use the Gateways to enter?"  
"We don't know anything about Gateways," Noonan answered honestly, "I arrived here by aircraft,"  
The Delori councilors started speaking in hushed, worried voices.  
At that moment a loud, grating alarm started to sound, several councilors jumping in surprise. The door to the chamber opened and another Delori rushed in, whispering quickly into the older councilor's ear.  
"Oh my," he said, "It seems there's a ship coming towards us at high speed. I wonder where it came from…"  
A horrible suspicion was building in Noonan's gut.  
"Sir," he asked, "When was the last time you looked in on your exhibits?"  
"Oh, some time ago," the Rational One said, "They usually take care of themselves. After all, everything that's happened there is history,"  
"I suggest you look in now," Noonan sighed.  
Looking unnerved, the Delori tapped at a panel on his desk. On the huge viewscreen images of the different time zones started appearing. A small medieval city, huge ziggurats under construction, single engine biplanes lifted off from a dirt airstrip.  
The city of Dufarekia in flames as rebels and the military continued to battle.  
The councilors started shouting, several of them raising their hands in what could only be angry gestures.  
Finally they turned to Noonan.  
"WHAT HAVE YOU PEOPLE DONE?"  
"It wasn't us!" Noonan protested, "It was the same ones who attacked us!"  
"Sir, the approaching ship!" the Delori who had rushed in cried.  
The screen changed again, showing Stalart's ship as it crossed the barriers into the city, shields sparking as they fought off the same energies that had crippled Noonan's plane.  
"What do they want?" the old Delori asked, "No refunds for museum admission!"

The Arcanian ship soared along the great fence/barrier that circled the seventh continent, emitting the great barriers of temporal energy. Stalart's scientists scanned carefully, looking for something they could use. They may not have had the skill to break into the primitive Delori computers but temporal physics was their speciality.  
They finally found what they were looking for: a backup generator for the temporal energy fields, one of dozens in place in case one of the primary generators (of which there were several thousand) failed. Transporters were locked and energized as the component was brought aboard. Then, before the Delori inhabitants of what was obviously a very advanced time zone could react, they changed course, heading out into space and back in the direction of their homeworld.

"This is just a MESS!" the Delori complained, "The exhibits have been tampered with and now visitors are stealing our technology! That is IT! You are all banned! BANNED!"  
"If I may," Noonan started.  
"You may NOT!" the Delori shouted. He tapped a button on his desk. Noonan had to move aside as a slender pillar rose in the center of the room. The old man walked steadily towards it. The other councilors, though looking worried, made no protest. On the column was a glowing red button.  
"Riden!" The old councilor shouted, turning to the Rational One, "Have these visitors evicted immediately!"  
"Yes, Supreme Councillor," Riden gave Noonan a look that was almost apologetic before tapping at his console.  
As the Delori transporters seized him again, Noonan had just enough time to make out the label on the red button, etched in dark Delori script: RESET.

"What the hell?" Jeffery asked, looking around. One minute he'd been sitting in Launch Control, playing games on the Delori computer, now he was on Silverado's bridge, in the saucer. T'Parief had a look of surprise on his face, while Yanick was leaning on a support to steady herself after having been overcome by a wave of transporter sparkles.  
"Silverado to, er, Silverado," Stafforde's voice came over the comm, "What the hell?"  
"We're back in space," Pye reported from the helm, "I don't know how, but we are," he tapped his console, putting a view of the stardrive section on screen.

"What happened?" Stafford asked Noonan, the latter having materialized in Main Engineering with a rather stunned look on his face.  
"It is a long story," Noonan said.  
He went immediately for a console, focusing scanners on the seventh continent. He stared for several moments.  
"Oh, shit," he whispered.

Seconds after the Supreme Councillor had slammed his hand down on the red button, the Temporal Nexus had started to unfold. The energy beams faded, the six emitters pivoted on massive support bases. Across Dufarndan the temporal barriers fell. As the stunned Starfleet officers in the saucer and stardrive sections of Silverado watched, the six time zones rippled, time seeming to run at an astoshing rate. As they watched, the Ancient Zone sped through the Bronze, Iron and Industrial ages and past the Computer age. Huge amounts of radio and then subspace comm traffic surged through the space around Delorea 2. Soon, the entire planet had reached a technological level equal to that of the Federation.  
And it kept going.  
But even as the planet twisted, all six zones coming into sync with the technological achievements of the seventh, the Temporal Nexus was still unfolding. From deep in the core of the structure, a very familiar sphere was rising. A sphere surrounded by three solid rings, each spinning slowly on its axis, the three of them coming close to but never quite reaching perfect alignment.

"That's the same as that thing from Horison system!" Noonan exclaimed.  
"The what?" Stafford asked, staring at the sphere. It was very familiar…  
"On stardate 56325 we encountered a similar object," Fifebee said quickly, "It was orbiting a planet doomed to be destroyed by a supernova!"  
"The one that turned time back like 5000 years?" Stafford asked.  
"Exactly," Fifebee said, "Though this one is much smaller. If the larger version could affect time in an entire solar system…"  
"This smaller one is going to do something to the planet," Noonan finished.  
Fifebee watched her display as the three rings slowly spun around the sphere.  
"We have 2 minutes until the rings align and the device activates," she reported.  
"Lock tractor beams on the saucer!" Stafford ordered, "Get us out of here!"  
"It will take several hours to rig the saucer for towing at warp speeds," Noonan reminded him.  
"Then use impulse power!"

As the Temporal Reversal Device, as the Delori had named it, hovered over the Temporal Nexus, the six energy beam emitters reactivated, this time with the beams targeting the sphere and transferring huge amounts of energy directly into its energy core. As Silverado moved slowly away from the planet the rings locked into position, perfectly aligned. Opposite ends of the sphere opened, revealing a brilliant blue light. The sphere pulsed for several moments before releasing the built up energy, sending a wave of temporal distortion racing across the surface of the planet.

The Silverado officers watched their view screens as, behind them, the planet writhed. Their hurry to get clear had proven unnecessary; the Delori who had 'evicted' them had moved them far enough from the planet that they wouldn't be caught in the energy fields. Made sense, if they wanted to be rid of them.  
Slowly, the glow around the planet faded, revealing the same oil-on-water shimmer surrounding the planet as they'd seen the first time they'd viewed scans of the planet.  
Stafford continued staring for several moments, then turned to his science officer.  
"Fifebee?"  
Fifebee tapped at the engineering panel she'd converted into a science station.  
"All readings match our initial approach to the planet," she reported, "The time zones, the layers of interference, all of it is back,"  
"And Dufarekia?" Noonan asked quckly.  
Fifebee put up a visual view of the city. Details were hard to make out on account of the temporal interference, but they could see that the lights visible where the whites and yellows of regular, artificial lighting, not the reds and oranges of flames and explosions.  
Delorea 2 was at peace again.

Captain's Log, Stardate: 78406.5

"Wow, it's been far too long since I've been in space. We've spent well over a standard month down on Delorea 2, and I can bet it's going to take just as long to debrief Starfleet on all the shit that's happened here!"  
"On a positive note, we've been met by the USS Stallion and the USS Elfman, both of which were sent to search for us when we didn't report in. It would have been nice if they'd gotten here several weeks ago, back when we REALLY would have needed them, but no point crying over spilt milk. Well, I guess in this case it's more like bitching that we're the onces that had to clean up the spilt milk. Although as far as the Delori are concerned we WERE the ones that spilt the milk in the first place, but whatever,"  
"We're on course now to return to Starbase 45, where the saucer will be re-attached and repairs completed…again. Our casualties were minor; those few officers who hadn't returned to the ship under their own power appeared on board when the Delori kicked us out. I bet that's one planet Starfleet's going to want a warning beacon orbiting, especially considering that we still couldn't find any trace of these 'signs' the Delori kept mentioning to Noonan."  
"Oops, I guess we better run back and leave one…"

"Sylvia, can you delete that last line?"  
"Sure," Sylvia replied.  
Stafford picked up his drink from the bar replicator, having beamed to the saucer with the rest of his senior staff. He walked to the rear windows where his officers were seated. The view was strange without the warp nacelles visible outside the windows, but the stardrive section was in front of the saucer, towing it through space.  
"Well," Stafford said, "It's about time we had a chance to sit back and relax,"  
"Aye," Jeffery said, "The past several weeks have just been…long. Very long,"  
They sat in silence for several moments.  
"I think I need a nap," Yanick said, yawning.  
"Me too," Jall said. He stood, giving Jeffery one last dirty look on his way out.  
Soon it was just Stafford, Jeffery and T'Parief.  
"Well," Stafford said again, looking a little annoyed, "I guess we've all earned some alone time,"  
"Oh, that reminds me," Jeffery pulled out a data chip and handed it to T'Parief, "This is for ye. Sort of a present, Ah guess,"  
"You are giving me presents now?" T'Parief glowered, "I realize you and the doctor are no longer together, however I am not available,"  
"Nay!" Jeffery started, shaking his head violently as Stafford chuckled, "It's not like that! Ah mean, oy, just look at it!"  
T'Parief picked up a padd, slipped the chip in and hit the power button.  
An image of the Delori rocket capsule appeared, Jall's angry, desperate face plastered up against the hatch window, one fist raised. Jeffery had taken the image after locking Jall in the rocket he'd flown successfully to the stardrive section.  
Stafford could have sworn the reptilian officer looked touched.  
"I will treasure this forever," he said, standing and giving Jeffery a small bow before he left. Stafford was sure he could hear loud laughter just before the doors closed behind him.  
"So what now?" Jeffery asked Stafford as the two of them watched the starts streaking back behind them.  
"Now?" Stafford asked, "Hopefully, now things will finally get back to normal,"

END

Next time on Silverado: Back to normal? Hah! Who's he kidding! Check out Silverado next week when the crew learns that repairing a 525-meter long starship isn't a free ride! Coming up next, Silverado 3.13: 'Earn Your Keep'!


	13. Earn Your Keep

Star Traks: Silverado

3.13 "Earn Your Keep"

"USS Silverado, please," Jall ordered as he stepped into one of Starbase 45s many turbolifts,"  
"There are two vessels of that name docked at this station," replied the voice of the computer, "Please specify,"  
"Saucer section," Jall growled. Beside him, Trish Yanick giggled as the lift smoothly accelerated.  
"The sooner they put Humpty Dumpty back together again, the better," Jall said.  
"Yeah," Yanick agreed, "Piloting the saucer was no fun. It's like flying a Frisbee. Y'know, except the saucer has thrusters and a Frisbee doesn't. And a Frisbee doesn't have people living in it. And-"  
"Oh good," Jall interrupted as the doors opened, "we're there,"  
They stepped out into Starbase 45s central docking facility. Based in the center of the huge dome-shaped hanger, the docking facility was a thick cylindrical pillar rising from the floor of the hanger up to the upper surface. Atop this core, outside the hanger itself sat the veritable city of the station's administration and command center.  
The turbolift had deposited Jall and Yanick in a busy commercial sector, with the inner wall consisting of shops, restaurants and other commercial facilities and the huge windows of the outer wall giving a panoramic view of the hanger bay. Not far to their left, Silverado's saucer section was docked. Starbase engineers clung to the lower surface, just starting to repair the hull breaches and structural damage the lower two decks had suffered when the saucer crashed into the ocean of Delorea 2. Towards the aft edge more technicians were removing the black carbon scoring left by the detonation of the explosive bolts that had pushed the saucer free of the stardrive section.  
Two slips to their right sat the stardrive section of the ship. It had taken considerably less damage than the saucer, as Lieutenant Fifebee had remained 'turned-on' long enough to pull it into a stable orbit before her program crashed. Aside from the carbon scoring where the saucer had been attached and some minor battle damage from the initial fight with Lord Stalart, it was in pretty good shape.  
"5 minutes," Jall promised as he headed towards the gantry leading to the saucer, "I just have to get that shirt from my quarters, then we're off to 'The Sassy Singularity' for a night of sex and debauchery!"  
"Maybe you are," Yanick sighed, "But unless T'Parief and the Hazardous Team get out of their debriefing early, I'll be the Chaste Princess for another night,"  
"Honey, with T'Parief, aren't you ALWAYS the Chaste Princess?"  
"That's none of your business!" Yanick snapped.  
Jall, taken aback by the sudden harsh tone in Yanick's voice, decided to let it drop.  
"I'll, er just get my shirt," he said, tapping an entry code into Silverado's airlock. As the thick double doors opened, the sound of angry discussion spilled out.  
"What do you MEAN I can't board the crew for two more weeks?" Stafford was saying angrily, "Most of these people have been evacuated for over two months now!"  
"There was a delay with repairs to the saucer," the other officer was tall, nearly six three, and bulged with muscles his uniform could barely contain, let alone conceal. His pale, clean-shaven skin contrasted with his jet-black hair. Jall nearly drooled as the man's bright blue eyes glanced over at him and Yanick.  
"Down, boy," Yanick whispered out of the side of her mouth.  
"And why was there a delay anyway Mr. Kilbury?" Stafford demanded, "We were ON TIME for our repairs for once! We've been here for two weeks, everything was supposed to be finished by now and you haven't even started reattaching the saucer!"  
"We had to wait for the engineers from Utopia Planetia to get here," Kilbury said, "The chance to study an Ambassador-class saucer the made planet fall and is still serviceable is a rare opportunity for them!"  
"Their opportunity is setting our departure time back even further!" Stafford groaned. He finally noticed Jall and Yanick standing by the airlock.  
"What do you two want?" he asked, exasperated.  
"Dinner and a movie," Jall said before he could stop himself, staring at Kilbury.  
Yanick elbowed him in the side as Stafford raised an eyebrow. Kilbury looked blank, then suddenly blushed deep red.  
"He just needs to go get a shirt so we can go to the club," Yanick said, pushing Jall off in the right direction. Reluctantly, Jall left.  
"Is this a shirt that's going to give Silverado a reputation for professional, respectful behavior," Stafford asked.  
"Um," Yanick bit her lip, "If by 'professional' you mean 'silver spandex', and if by 'respectful behavior' you mean-"  
"Stop!" Stafford help up his hands, "Just, stop. Between constant debriefings with Tunney and dealing with the repairs to this ship I just can't deal with Jall's…eccentricities. Ignorance is bliss."  
"I'll, um, just go see about the repair schedule," Kilbury said, looking uncomfortable as he turned away. "And then I plan on banging my wife," he added under his breath, "Repeatedly."  
"What was that?" Stafford asked.  
"Nothing!" Kilbury called back over his shoulder.

Stafford had barely made it to his quarters when the comm sounded.  
"Jeffery to Stafford,"  
Resting his head against a support strut, he tapped his badge.  
"Yeah?"  
"Er, Ah have a question for ye,"  
"Oh really?" Stafford asked, "And here I just thought you were calling me to get the weather,"  
"What Lt. Commander Jeffery means, Captain," Lieutenant Fifebee's voice came over the comm, "Is that there is a matter of some 'optional features' Captain Zezzix would like to discuss with you,"  
"Optional features? What are we, an SUV?"  
"He wants to know if we'd like an upgrade to our saucer separations systems," Jeffery cut back in, "Somethin' about wanting to know whether we'd like to be able to re-attach the saucer without a starbase,"  
Starfleet's bigger ships, the 'Heavy Cruiser/ Deep-Space-Explorer' category of starship, usually consisted of 3 main components: A saucer section, an engineering section and a pair of warp nacelles. Almost every class of ship using that arrangement could separate the saucer section in the event of an emergency. Whether due to a catastrophic core failure in the engineering section or to act as a huge lifeboat for the bulk of the crew, it had been used frequently throughout Starfleet's history. The catch was that until the Galaxy-class ships were designed, any ship that separated its saucer and later needed to be re-assembled had to have both sections returned to a starbase. It was, as Stafford was finding, a major pain in the ass.  
"Was he serious?" Stafford asked, "Or was he just mocking us?"  
"Um," Jeffery thought for a moment, "Ah dunno,"  
"My vocal analysis indicates a 95 percent certainty that he was serious, Captain," Fifebee cut in, "However, it will delay our repairs by at least a week,"  
Stafford groaned again. After a moment's thought, he made his decision.  
"What the hell?" he asked, "Why don't you call 'Pimp My Starship' and see if we can get some purple neon lights or a racing stripe painted on the hull while we're at it?"  
Angrily, he slapped his badge again, cutting the channel.

In Main Engineering, over in the stardrive section, Jeffery looked over to Fifebee.  
"Was that an 'aye' or a 'nay'?" he asked Fifebee.  
"It sounds like the Captain is becoming stressed," Fifebee remarked, "However, vocal analysis-"  
"Aye, or nay?" Jeffery cut in.  
Fifebee looked at him for a moment.  
"Aye," she said.  
"If anybody cares what I think…" Sylvia broke in.  
"Ah can guess," Jeffery said.  
"Well," Sylvia said, her voice practically screaming 'Don't Blame Me', "You have to admit you'd enjoy being decapitated much more if you had the knowledge that your head could be easily reattached.  
Shrugging, Jeffery send a message to Captain Zezzix, Chief of Dock Operations for Starbase 45 with Stafford's answer and started going through the information they'd been sent on the upgrade.  
"Looks pretty common-sense," he said, "A few tractor emitters near the separation point, replacing the explosive de-couplers with grab-plates, some work on the turboshafts and umbilicals-"  
"Starbase 45 to Lieutenant Fifebee," chimed the comm.  
"Fifebee here,"  
"Lieutenant, you have in incoming message from Jupiter Station,"  
Despite being a hologram, Fifebee very much had the ability to feel the emotion of surprise. And boy was she feeling it now!  
"Please route it to the Chief Engineer's Office on Silverado," she requested, turning from the console and walking quickly to Jeffery's office.  
"Sure, ye can use me office," Jeffery said to the empty room, "Ah don't mind,"

Fifebee strode into the small office off of Main Engineering and sat at Jeffery's desk. A quick tap on the screen brought the normally scowling face of Dr. Luis Zimmerman onto the screen.  
Except today he wasn't scowling.  
"Jane," he said, swallowing and looking away from the screen before turning back, "It's good to see you,"  
"Doctor Zimmerman," Fifebee replied politely. Her face was calm, but her inner personalities were in turmoil.  
Dr. Zimmerman had created Fifebee (5-B) as part of a project to see how sentient holograms could integrate into Federation society. An offshoot of the Emergency Medical Hologram, his Holographic Starfleet Officers, Mark 5 had been designed for prolonged use. He'd also designed them with access to hundreds of different personalities, depending on what path they chose. Fifebee had decided the sciences were most appropriate to a hologram, thus her database of personalities consisted mainly of scientists.  
Zimmerman and Fifebee however, had fought when Fifebee had been assigned to Silverado. Zimmerman had felt that a hologram of Fifebee's caliber belonged on a better ship. Fifebee wanted to stay where she was. Poor Stafford had been stuck in the middle, finally insisting to Zimmerman that if he expected Fifebee to behave like a sentient being, he had to give her the choice. Zimmerman had agreed, but it had been the last time Fifebee had seen or heard from him. Now, to have him calling her, two and a half years later, was completely unexpected.  
"It's good to see you," she added.  
Zimmerman looked relieved.  
"I'm…sorry," he said, "that we haven't stayed in closer contact,"  
"As am I,"  
"Your sister, 5-C, sends her regards," Zimmerman said.  
"I have a sister?" Fifebee straightened in her chair.  
"Newly created last month," Zimmerman said. "That's why. I mean, I wanted you to know…"  
"Then you did not wish to speak to me?"  
"Fifebee, please don't twist my words!"  
Fifebee found herself unable to speak. She didn't know what to say, what to feel. Was she glad Zimmerman had ended the silence between them, or angry he hadn't ended it sooner? Was she happy to have a new sister, or upset that Zimmerman had created what could be viewed as a replacement to her?"  
"Fifebee," Zimmerman said, his voice softening, "I…I'm not somebody who is comfortable discussing his feelings. But you should know that I do care for you, and that I've been keeping a close eye on your career. You've done," he struggled for a moment, "You've done better than I expected," he admitted.  
Fifebee was still speechless.  
"Anyway," Zimmerman said, bringing the topic to something easier to discuss, "The other reason why I called is because I have an upgrade for you,"  
"An upgrade?" Fifebee asked.  
"When I was programming your sister I made a number of changes to the holomatrix that I think will help stabilize some of your subroutines. I understand you've recently had computer problems on Silverado?"  
"Among other things," Fifebee said.  
"I'm sending the upgrade to your computer core," Zimmerman said, "Call me if you have any problems. Fifebee, I…I hope we can talk again soon,"  
"I look forward to it," Fifebee replied calmly.  
Zimmerman's face vanished, replaced by the blue on black Federation logo.  
She stood by the desk for a moment before swearing loudly and driving her holographic foot right through it.  
"What the…" Jeffery appeared in the doorway, eyes surveying the wreckage of his desk, "Fifebee, are ye OK?"  
"No," Fifebee replied simply, "Fifebee to Yvonnokoff. I need an appointment at the earliest opportunity.  
With that she walked briskly out of engineering.

The next morning, Stafford was dragging his tired ass out of his temporary quarters on the starbase and into the nearest mess hall. The rectangular room was easily three times the size of Silverado's Officer's Mess and featured a spectacular view of the planet Starbase 45 orbited, Ramson 6. Several Silverado crewmen were sitting down to breakfast, a few nodding politely to acknowledge their captain, most just ignoring him completely. Several crewmen from other ships were giving the Silverado crewmembers dirty looks, though whether that was from last weeks food fight or for drinking the last of the real alcohol on the starbase was a mystery.  
"Good morning, Captain," somebody said.  
"Ugh," Stafford growled, reaching out blindly for the nearest coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. Mind still groggy, he proceeded to dump cream over his pancakes and stirred maple syrup into his coffee.  
"I trust you slept well," the intruder continued.  
"Nugh," Stafford grumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand and pouring syrupy coffee down his throat with the other.

"I do not understand," Fifebee said, "The computer records show he was in his guest quarters for 9.5 hours last night. Presumable he was able to get enough sleep?"  
"He went to bed early last night. Chris's kinda funny that way," Jeffery replied, his plate piled high with bacon and eggs, "He's a morning person if he always goes to bed at the same time, but if not, well, he can be a real baby when it comes to nap time. Heh heh, 'baby', 'nap time',"  
Fifebee didn't laugh.  
"Er, right," Jeffery swallowed, "Ye could always wait until after breakfast, when he wakes up?'  
"It's urgent,"  
"Well, ok," Jeffery said, "Don't say I didn't warn ye,"  
Watching Stafford slowly shoving soggy pancakes into his mouth, Jeffery deftly upended a bottle of Tabasco sauce into his coffee cup, sat back and waited for him to take a sip.  
"AAAAUUUUGGGHHHHH!" Plates skittered across the table and annoyed crewmen shouted encouraging phrases like 'Shut the hell up' and 'I'm trying you eat you ass' as Stafford cried out in agony.  
"Mission accomplished," Jeffery said, throwing Fifebee a mock salute and standing.  
"You have not finished your breakfast," Fifebee pointed out as Jeffery turned to leave, "Why are you leaving?"  
"Who the…dammit!" Stafford was cursing in between dumping glasses of ice water into his mouth, "JEFFERY! I am going to KICK your ASS into NEXT WEEK!"  
"Question asked, question answered," Fifebee sighed. She stood to follow Stafford as he stormed out of the mess hall. Jeffery had been too quick though, and the younger man was nowhere in sight.  
"Captain," Fifebee said, hurrying to catch up, "I really need to talk to you,"  
Stafford suddenly stopped and stared at her, as though just noticing she was there.  
"What were you doing at breakfast?" he asked, "You've been avoiding eating since the Rengs baby puked all over you,"  
"I need your advice," Fifebee said.  
"Really?" Stafford looked even more surprised now, "On what?"  
Fifebee quickly explained the situation with Dr. Zimmerman.  
Stafford thought for a moment.  
"I dunno," he finally said, shrugging, "I've always got along really well with my parents, so I don't have much experience with this kinda thing,"  
"You were the one who convinced Dr. Zimmerman to let me stay on Silverado," Fifebee reminded him.  
"Well, technically," Stafford said, "I just convinced him it should be your choice," his eyes lit up, "But you know, I bet Noonan would have some nifty advise. He's funny like that. Or maybe you should see Yvonnokoff. Anyway, I have a meeting with Admiral Tunney and if I'm late again he's going to bitch,"  
He stepped into a turbolift and was whisked away.  
"But it was your advise I wanted," Fifebee said softly.

Fifebee returned to her quarters and sat on the bed. She really didn't need quarters, but it was nice to have a private space where she could muse.  
Stafford was apparently too busy to speak with her, and she did not want to talk to Yvonnokoff. She could wait until Stafford had time, or perhaps seek out one of her other crewmates…perhaps Ensign Burke? Or Sylvia?  
No. Burke would be on duty and Sylvia wouldn't understand. She'd been created by accident, not on purpose. Besides, Fifebee wanted to do this now.  
"Very well," she said, mentally bracing herself.  
"Sylvia," Fifebee called.  
"Yes, dear?"  
"I wish to install the upgrade I received from Jupiter station,"  
"Hmmm," Sylvia's motherly tone grew stronger, "Are you sure that's a good idea, Jane? I mean, an upgrade can be a pretty major thing! Don't you want to read the release notes or something first?"  
"No," Fifebee said, "Proceed,"  
"OK, honey," Sylvia fell silent for minute, "OK, all done."  
Fifebee blinked.  
"I don't feel any different," she said.  
"Must have been a good upgrade then," Sylvia said, the sound of a shrug in her voice, "I find the best kind of upgrades are the ones that you don't notice."  
"I…suppose…" Fifebee said slowly.

"On time, for once?" Tunney commented dryly as his large, purple, testy assistant led Stafford into his office. The Admiral was sipping a large latte and nibbling on a pumpkin scone, leaving Stafford in the uncomfortable position of trying to figure out how he was supposed to tell his superior officer he had whipped cream on his goatee.  
"Uh, Admiral," he started.  
"I know," Tunney said, "We've gone over this Delori thing a hundred times now. We've got all the information we can squeeze out of your crew, the Stallion is heading to the Horison system to help with the analysis of that big temporal sphere thing you found there. Oh, by the way, the initial reports from the scout ship suggest that the sphere on Delori was far more advanced than the one orbiting Horison,"  
"Yes, but-" Stafford tried to cut in.  
"So we're mostly done," Tunny took another sip of his latte, another clump of whipped cream sticking to his beard, "Once repairs are finished you're heading back in the general direction of Delorea for a survey mission,"  
Stafford's eyes were starting to glaze over. All he could do was stare at the big, white, creamy glob on Tunney's goatee. His head tilted slightly as he stared.  
"There is one last thing, Captain," Tunny paused, but Stafford didn't respond. "Captain?"  
"Foamy," Stafford said dreamily.  
"Hmm?" Tunny raised a hand to his beard, "Oh, Whoops." He grabbed a napkin.  
"Uh, right," Stafford sat back up again, "Soo…can I go now?"  
"Not yet," Tunney said, crumbs falling onto his uniform shirt as he took a bite out of his scone, "See, we've already had 700 members of your crew hanging around here for well over two months. Now we've got the rest of you for two more weeks. We're having issues with that number,"  
"It's a big starbase," Stafford said, "Should be room for 10 times that many people!"  
"And there would be," Tunney said, "If we were running at capacity. But we're not. We've staffed the station based on the traffic in the region, and now you people have thrown that off,"  
"What are you saying?" Stafford said slowly.

"We all have to get jobs," Stafford explained tiredly to his officers in they gathered in a small lounge off Starbase 45s docking facility.  
"Jobs?" Jall asked, "As in WORK?" Both he and Yanick were looking a little overtired from their explorations of the station's nightlife.  
"It is good that we will contribute to the station while we are here," T'Parief said, nodding his agreement.  
"Ah've got enough work to do fixin' the ship," Jeffery objected.  
"I know," Stafford said, "Tunney says that you're excused. So is Noonan. I guess he's taking leave for a couple of weeks,"  
"I wanna take leave too," Jall immediately said.  
"You need to submit such requests in advance," Fifebee informed him.  
"Crap," Jall grumbled.  
"What kind of jobs will we be doing?" Wowryk asked, "I presume it will be based on our experience?"  
"Not exactly," Stafford said, pulling a large hat out from under the table.

"Welcome to Denith's Pizza, how may I help you?" Stafford said, trying and failing to look welcoming.  
"Yes, I'd like a large pizza with Rigellian sausage, Terran pepperoni and gagh. Oh, and two Sluggo colas," Stafford's customer, an overweight Xenitec woman with iron grey skin and compound eyes, clicked her mandibles in anticipation.  
"Gagh? On a pizza?" Stafford asked, eyebrows almost reaching the ridiculous green hat he'd been forced to wear.  
"Young man," the insectoid woman said, "I will have what I wish on my pizza. Immediately,"  
"OK, OK," Stafford said, punching in the order and turning towards the back of the store where other employees were making pizzas, "We need a large pie with R-sausage, pepperoni and worms, and two colas,"  
Turning back to collect the latinum from the Xenitec, he cursed to himself.  
"I had to use the stupid hat,"

"This will be no problem," Wowryk said to herself. She was sitting at a small control panel at the rear of the theatre. She'd drawn the job of 'Activities Coordinator' out of the hat and had been placed in charge of providing entertainment to the visitors of Starbase 45. Taking a page out of Stafford's book, she'd converted one of the unused holodecks into a theatre and was in the process of selecting viewing material for a large crowd of couples who wanted to spend some quality time with their offspring.  
"Hmmm," Wowryk mused, pulling up list after list of cartoons. The Silverado crew had enjoyed a number of 20th and 21st century cartoons, like that rascally rabbit and the coyote that kept getting squished by a catapult. Wowryk was confident she would find something more suitable to her younger audience.  
"Ahh!" she said, smiling as she spotted a likely candidate on the cartoon listing, "Let's try 'Drawn Together'! '8 cartoons characters live together in a large house'! That sounds wholesome and family oriented!"  
Wowryk smiled to herself as she loaded the cartoon and activated the projection system.  
This was totally a piece of cake!

"This is SOOO awesome!" Jall almost squealed.  
"I don't know San," Yanick said nervously, "I think this is going to be harder than we thought,"  
Yanick and Jall had both drawn the task of helping to manage 'Romulus Republic', a hip new fashion store that had just opened on the starbase. The owners were too busy running between their different chain stores to handle the surge in traffic the Starbase 45 shop had seen and Tunney had oh-so-graciously offered help.  
"Oh, c'mon," Jall said, "We get to manage a fashion boutique! What more could we want?"  
"San," Yanick said, "Do you know the first thing about dealing with customers?"  
"Of course I do," Jall scoffed, "I'm a professional! Besides, the kind of people who shop here are my people, if you get my meaning,"  
A very large Andorian woman had walked through the open door. Jall immediately headed towards her.  
"Jall!" Yanick hissed running after him, "I really think you should let the sales staff-"  
"Hush," he said. He smiled at the woman, "Welcome to Romulus Republic," he said, "Can I help you with something?"  
"I seek a pantsuit," the Andorian said, glaring at Jall, "I demand to see what you have in grey,"  
"Hmm," Jall said to himself, "I'll have see what we have in a size 14,"  
Yanick sighed, bringing one hand up to rub her forehead.

"Do you wish to order a drink?" Fifebee inquired politely. She had devoted about 10% of her system resources to her job, the rest was busy pondering just what exactly she was going to do about the Zimmerman situation.  
"Yeah, yeah," a young Bajoran officer with Lieutenant's pips said, shoulders slumped as he sat at his barstool, idly tracing patterns on the bar with one finger.  
"What kind of drink would you like?" Fifebee asked. Somehow, she'd drawn the job of Bartender out of the hat. No problem, of course. She'd simply linked up with the starbase library computer and downloaded a few million drink recipes into her memory banks.  
"Uh…how about a Prophetic Paralyzer? Do you know how to make one of those?"  
"Of course," Fifebee smiled reassuringly as she began to expertly mix the contents of the drink.  
The Bajoran man sighed.  
Fifebee continued mixing. This was easy!  
"She doesn't love me," he said sadly.  
Fifebee didn't reply, she simply finished adding the last ingredient (some kind of Bajoran rum) and handed the drink to her customer.  
"Your beverage is complete,"  
"Uh, I said," the Bajoran repeated, "She doesn't love me,"  
Fifebee blinked, temporarily pausing an analytical subroutine that was attempting to determine whether the creation of her sister had created feelings of jelousy.  
"Are you talking to me?" she asked.  
"Y'know what? No. No I'm not," Dejected, the Bajoran left his drink and trudged out the door.  
"Was it something I said?" Fifebee asked. She quickly consulted her database and re-examined the role of 'Bartender'. 'A being who creates and serves alchoholic/synthoholic drinks in a bar'. Hmm. She had done so.  
So why had her customer been upset?  
Fifebee quickly began cross-referencing her files, trying to find other references to bartending. The results were disturbing. A bartender, aside from serving drinks, often had to assist customers by listening to their emotional issues! And providing advice! In fact, she received a huge amount of information from a company called Guinanco on the merits of advice-oriented bartending!  
Which meant that not only was she expected to mix drinks, she was going to have to serve as a kind of counselor to organic beings!  
Fifebee shuddered.

"Ow," Jall said. He was sitting behind the sales counter as Yanick ran a dermal regenerator over his left eye. The one the Andorian woman had punched him in before leaving in a furious storm of profanity.  
"I told you," Yanick said, "You just don't have the personality of a salesman,"

"May I take your order?"  
"Uh…uh…"  
T'Parief stood in The Gilded Tribble, a growing franchise of very fancy restaurants that had started popping up on more and more Federation outposts.  
"Perhaps sir and madam would like another moment to consider?" he growled politely.  
"Uh…uh…"  
T'Parief turned away with a sigh. As soon as they were out of his sight, the elderly couple he had been trying to serve slouched in their seats, holding their hearts and gasping for breath. Who knew a night on the town could be so terrifying!  
Taking a moment to adjust the bow tie on the uncomfortable tuxedo he'd been forced to wear, T'Parief moved to the next table.  
"I trust everything is satisfactory?" he asked, voice as soothing as possible.  
The woman at the table almost jumped, the wine in her glass sloshing as her hand shook and dripping down to stain the white tablecloth.  
"Permit me to refill that for you," T'Parief said, picking up the bottle from the chilling bucket next to the table. He moved to pour some into the woman's glass, but she jerked away from him so hard she managed to dump half the remaining wine onto her lap.  
T'Parief blinked. The woman stared back in terror. Her date, another human, was slowly slouching down in his seat, trying to remain out of T'Parief's view.  
"Perhaps I will just leave the bottle," he sighed again. Being a waiter definitely wasn't a good career choice.

Wowryk watched the theatre screen in horror. It was bad enough that the cartoons had quickly gone into an animated explanation of the facts of life, but now she clutched her chest as the charming fairy-tail princess lifted her dress to reveal a tentacle monster that thrashed and shrieked. He companions, an overweight black & white cartoon woman and a cartoon black girl in a fox costume shrieked in horror, nearly as loud as the parents in the audience.  
"Oh, that?" the cartoon said, "That's my octopusoua. It's French,"  
Wowryk collapsed in a faint as furious parents grabbed their children by the hand and stormed out of the theatre.

"Faster, human, faster!"  
Stafford's boss shouted over him as he hurried to place exactly 36 pieces of pepperoni on the pizza he was making.  
"10 seconds!" the manager shouted, "9! 8! 7!"  
"There!" Stafford said triumphantly, slapping the last slice down and sprinkling on the final layer of cheese.  
Mitch, the manager, nodded in satisfaction.  
"Good," he said, "Now get out of there. There is a delivery waiting to go out and the other delivery boys aren't back yet,"  
"Delivery boy?" Stafford groaned, "That wasn't in the job description!"  
"Admiral Tunney said-"  
"Yeah, yeah," Stafford said, grabbing the stack of pizzas and heading for the door,"  
"Don't forget the hat!" Mitch called out.

Grumbling, Stafford pulled off the stupid hat the second he was out of sight of the pizza shop. He jumped into a turbolift, "Deck 79," he ordered.  
After exiting the lift, he followed the direction on his padd as he navigated the maze of corridors. As he approached his destination, the sounds of a party could be heard. He rang the door chime.  
"Pizza delivery for Ivonna Gatlayed," he called, reading the name off his padd, "Ivonna Gatlayed!"  
There was an explosion of laughter behind the door, then it hissed open.  
"Well, you're not getting any action from…oh shit,"  
Silverado's entire security department, the Hazardous Team, as well as the second and third string security teams, stared in shock for a moment, then started laughing hysterically as their Captain stood in the door, wearing his grey and purple Denith's Pizza uniform.  
"5 slips of latinum," he said, glaring at Lieutenant Stern, "And can the comments!" He started to step into the room.  
"No, wait-" Rengs tried to warn him.  
Too late.  
As soon as he crossed the threshold, a bucket of icy water fell onto his head. The pizzas fell to the floor as Stafford started to flail around. He yanked the bucket off and chucked it at Simmons, who had been rolling on the floor laughing.  
"Uh, here you go, sir," Stern said, handing him the latinum strips, "Along with a nice gratuity-"  
"F**k off!" Stafford snapped, grabbing the latinum and storming out of the room.  
Stern and his men exchanged nervous glances.  
"Oops," Marsden muttered.

"So, do you think I should go for it?"  
"I…do not know," Fifebee said, standing perfectly erect behind the bar, her emotional subroutines almost overloading with panic. The situation with Dr. Zimmerman was forgotten, relegated to file storage until the current situation could be resolved. She now had a young Klingon facing her, and he was asking her about a life choice, something that would change the way he spent the rest of his life. Who was she to suggest anything?"  
"My father insists that I enter the Imperial Klingon Academy and preferably die before the end of training, like a good son," the knarled-foreheaded youth went on. He was barely old enough to be drinking! He was quite the figure though; over 6 feet tall and Fifebee was quite sure that once he finished growing he'd be a fine addition to the Klingon stereotype of aggresive, muscular males, "My mother thinks I should simply take a shuttle into hostile territory and die quickly in a blaze of glory," the Klingon, Dargos, went on, "How do I decide which way to die honorably?"  
Fifebee blinked.  
"But why must you die at all?" she groaned, images of his body being gutted and strewn across a bloody battle field running through her head, "Organic death is always so messy,"  
The young Klingon frowned.  
"I had not considered that," he said, "The mess, I mean. If I am killed in a shuttle, my remains would be cleanly vaporized. If I go through the Imperial Academy, I will likely die of stab wounds. Which would be very messy,"  
"You could join Starfleet," Fifebee suggested, the words popping out before she had a chance to consider, "76 percent of officers killed on starships are killed instantly by plasma discharges when consoles or plasma conduits explode,"  
"Star…fleet?" the youth, Dargos, stared at her, "My father would kill me himself!"  
"The number of Klingons in Starfleet is growing," Fifebee said, "In fact, I serve with a Klingon. He is murderous, abrasive and frequently disturbs the residents of Deck 9 when copulating with his girlfriend,"  
"Really," Dargos stared at her, bewildered.

Several hours later, the Silverado officers gathered in the starbase's Tellarite restaurant. They were all tired (except Fifebee) and most were covered with stains of some kind.  
"I don't know how people in the service industry do it," Stafford said for the third time. He was still a bit damp from his earlier encounter and his hair and cloths were giving off a strong pizza-dough smell that really wasn't as pleasant second-hand as it had been first-hand. His silly green hat was crooked on his head and had a large red stain from a child that had thrown a container of dipping sauce at him.  
"I gave life-advice to a Klingon today," Fifebee said, still looking stunned, "Based on what I said, he will either die a messy, horrible death or join Starfleet and be ridiculed by his family," her eyes widened, "How can I live with that weight on my program?"  
"Big women don't realize how big they are," Jall said. He sported two black eyes now and had an appointment in the station infirmary to have a missing tooth replaced, "And when you tell them, they get very angry,"  
"He's lucky he wasn't killed," Yanick said. She simply looked tired, "He told a Klingon woman we didn't have a breastplate big enough for her. She nearly smothered him with her chest,"  
"Sounds like fun," Stafford sighed, "I walked in on a pair of two hundred year-old Vulcans in the middle of Ponn Farr," he slammed his fists down on the table, "WHO THE HELL ORDERS PIZZA IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INSANE MATING DRIVE?"  
"You might have enjoyed it," Jall shot back, "To me, it was like-"  
"Please, stop," Wowryk requested. She had small stains covering her uniform where parents of various species at spat at her on their way out of the movie, "I do not wish to hear any sexual innuendoes this evening. Not after what I just endured. What kind of sick mind writes a story about a vagina monster? WHO?"  
Everybody slowly turned to stare at her.  
"Just don't ask," she requested softly.  
"What happened to you?" Stafford asked T'Parief. He was covered from head to toe in food stains.  
"I attempted to bring dessert menus to a party of 15 senior citizens. They were most surprised to see me," he said, "Fortunately; they all survived their heart attacks."  
"I really hope Tunney doesn't hear about all this,"' Stafford sighed.  
"Not likely,"  
"Crap," Stafford let his head fall into his hands, "He's standing right behind me, isn't he,"  
"Yup," Admiral Tunney said as he took an empty chair, "Y'know, most crews I know have some kind of signal to give the Captain when an Admiral is standing behind him,"  
"Thanks guys," Stafford growled, glaring at his staff.  
"I hear it was quite a day," Tunney said.  
"Yeah, yeah," Stafford said, "Look, Admiral, all due respect and all, if you could just give us shit quickly so we can eat we'd appreciate it. It's been a very long day,"  
"Oh, I'm not hear to reprimand you," Tunney said, breaking off a piece of the elaborate floral arrangement in the center of the table and eating it, "I mean, I know things could have gone more smoothly, but I really wasn't expecting you people to be perfect,"  
"How forgiving," Wowryk said in an approving tone. Everybody else stared at Tunney as he continued snacking on the flowers.  
"Anyway," Tunney said, having just finished chewing a yellow daisy-like plant, "I just wanted to check up on you all. Oh, by the way, the last of the replacement lifeboats came in today. We'll install them once we're done with the separation systems upgrade. Ciao!" he stood and left.  
"Well," Yanick said, "That's not what I was expecting! I thought we were gonna get our asses kicked!"  
"Again," Jall mumbled.  
"I am please the Admiral is not angry about our mishaps," T'Parief agreed.  
Stafford clenched his teeth and looked around at his officers.  
"Is it just me, or did he just tell us not to worry because he was EXPECTING us to screw up?" he said, clenching his fists, "Is that how he sees us? Still?"  
"It's not like it hasn't happened before," Jall said.  
"He does have a point," Wowryk said, crossing her arms, "We have had more than our share of mishaps. Crashing a starship into a planet for example. It's hard for a crew to live something like that down,"  
"Hey, I know we've had challenges," Stafford said, "But we've come a long way since then!"  
"Uh, the planet crash was just two months ago," Yanick pointed out, "Unless we crashed before and I forgot about it?" she gasped, "Oh! Maybe I had a concussion and got amnesia!"  
"The Captain has a point," T'Parief said, "I do not want a reputation as a failure,"  
"I think we're a bit late on that one," Jall said, "And where the hell is the waiter?"  
Almost on cue, a Tellarite waiter breezed by and dropped off a packet at their table.  
"The cheque?" Stafford demanded, "We haven't even ordered yet!"  
"You had the dinner special," the waiter said, pointing at the floral arrangement Tunney had been nibbling on, "At least your friend was eating. If the rest of you didn't like it, that's not my problem,"  
"Stupid alien restaurants," Stafford grumbled, pulling out a few slips of latinum, "OK, so here's the plan. Tomorrow we go back to our shitty jobs, we do them better than anybody could image and we show Tunney who the failures are! Who's with me!"  
Everybody stared at him. T'Parief meekly raised one hand.  
"OK, I don't care if you want to do this or not, this is the plan and we're doing it," Stafford glared at Jall, "Otherwise I'm going to order Sylvia to purge your porn collection,"  
"I'm in," Jall said quickly.  
"OK," Yanick shrugged.  
"There was a show called 'Family Guy' that might be better suited for younger beings," Wowryk mused.  
"Why don't you give tours of that park down on Ramson 6 instead?" Fifebee suggested, "Our treaty with the squirreloids on the planet does allow that,"  
"Just don't let the kids throw rocks at the squirrels," Stafford warned.  
"And you," Yanick poked Jall, "Are going to stay behind the counter and let the sales staff do the work!"  
"Fine, fine," Jall groaned.

The next afternoon, Fifebee arrived for her shift at 'Praetor and Firken'. She started by attaching a small sign behind the bar reading 'Advice followed at own risk'. She picked up her glass-polishing cloth and faced the bar, ready for customers.  
Nobody came in.  
Fifebee, being a hologram rather than a living being, didn't really think about the fact that bars had an ebb and flow of their own. They might be busy one night, dead the next. It was almost as hard to predict as the weather. And mornings were ESPECIALLY dead. Not that the place was empty, no. But everybody was ordering food and non-synthoholic drinks from the waitresses, leaving Fifebee with little to do.  
Fifebee continued standing behind the bar, not moving so much as a micron. Microseconds passed, then seconds and finally minutes. After about 2.3 minutes had passed, Fifebee realized she was bored beyond reason.  
She quickly began analyzing her 'Pending Tasks' list. Item one: Create a computer program to more efficiently target Silverado's sensors. Easy enough. Item two: Analyze the flight path of their upcoming survey and plan department resource needs. That was completed in about 3 milliseconds. Item three: Consider situation with Dr. Zimmerman.  
Ohhh crud.  
As soon as she re-loaded the data on Dr. Zimmerman's call into her program, Fifebee immediately began feeling the same conflicting emotions she'd felt earlier. Was she jealous of 5-C? Was she pleased or upset that Zimmerman had called? What was she going to do about it?  
While her program continued to process the data, she noticed that Dargos, the Klingon youth from yesterday, had re-entered the bar. He walked in, back straight, sat at the bar and slammed one fist down.  
"Bloodwine! NOW!" he snarled.  
Fifebee blinked.  
"As you wish," she said. Busying herself at the replicator, she quickly obtained and served the drink.  
Without thanking her, Dargos tipped the mug back and started downing the beverage. Fifebee watched, fascinated as he swallowed again, and again, until the mug was empty.  
"MORE!" he snapped, slamming the mug down hard on the bar top and coughing.  
"Are you quite all right?" Fifebee asked, "You are behaving...well, much more Klingon than you were yesterday,"  
"I am a Klingon and will behave like one," Dargos said, belching loudly. Fifebee handed him another mug of blood wine. This time he only managed to get about half of the drink down before he was overcome by a coughing fit, spraying wine all over Fifebee.  
Staring back at him, Fifebee crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.  
"OK, I've had enough," Dargos admitted. He dropped the 'Klingon Warrior' pose immediately, resting his elbows on the bar and hanging his head.  
"I take it you have made a decision?" Fifebee asked.  
"I am going to die," Dargos replied.

"Welcome to Ramson 6," Wowryk said, smiling as she faced her tour group. About two dozen strong, they consisted mostly of couples, human and non-human, and most had kids with them. They were already looking around, giving approving nods as they appreciated the beauty of the planet.  
"Ramson 6," Wowryk went on, "Has been home to Starbase 45 for 2 years now. It serves as Starfleet's administrative center to this and the surrounding sectors. Ramson 6 itself is populated by a race of intelligent beings, and though there were some initial problems, we've come to a mutually agreeable arrangement,"  
As she started to lead her group towards the beach, answering questions along the way, Wowryk gave a sigh of relief. Everything was going according to plan!

"OK Julie, I want you in the Ladies section, Sarah, you've got Girls and Infants," Jall said firmly, reading from a padd, "Scott, you're taking care of Shoes-"  
"Oh, faboo!" Scott said, flipping one wrist.  
"Ease up, Princess," Jall snapped, "Krageth, you've got Menswear. I want hourly reports! No customer leaves unsatisfied! Do you get me?"  
"Uh-huh"  
"Whatever."  
"Sure."  
Jall watched as the sales staff moved off to their various departments. Yanick had settled herself behind the sales counter, while Jall was working to interact with as few customers as possible.  
"Bring on the invading hordes!" Jall giggled, hitting the switch to open the security gate and activate the 'OPEN' sign.

"Chris, you've got ovens today," Mitch was telling Stafford, "Now, I think you're gonna like this better," Mitch pointed towards the business end of Denith's Pizza's plasma-powered conveyer oven, "And so will the customers," he added under his breath.  
Stafford stood there, a large flat lifter in one hand. He watched as other employees down at the make-line assembled a pizza, then put it in their end of the over. A few moments later, it came out his end, cooked to perfection.  
Using the lifter, he snatched the pizza from the oven and set it on the counter in front of him. He quickly located the correct stasis box, sliced the pizza and set it on the rack to be delivered.  
Hmmm. That wasn't so bad. Spot the pizza, get the box, cut and send. Easy!  
Another pizza came though. This time, Stafford flipped it into the box with a flourish before attacking it with the rolling pizza cutter. Who-hoo!  
"Hey, this is fun!" he giggled to himself.

"Mr. T'Parief," the General Manager of the Gilded Tribble greeted T'Parief as he arrived for his shift. The Gilded Tribble opened somewhat later than most of the other restaurants, catering as it did to the posh lunch and dinner crowds. As such, T'Parief got to sleep in.  
"Mr. Ruchar," T'Parief nodded, "I am ready to serve,"  
"Yes, about that," Ruchar said quickly, "There were some…concerns brought up by some of your customers last night,"  
T'Parief sighed. This wasn't really a new situation for him.  
"As such," Ruchar went on, "We'd like you to wear this,"  
He held out a large bundle to T'Parief.  
"What is it?"

Three minutes later, T'Parief wondered just home much trouble he could get into by disobeying Stafford and Tunney and quitting. He'd been given an outfit that might have been fashionable on Earth about 600 years ago, but would get him shot on any Klingon or Gorn planet today. He had a big powdered wig on, hiding his brow ridges, antennae nubs and the ridge that ran down the back of his neck. He'd been forced to wear thin white gloves that concealed his claws, and a frilly lace cravat. He may have looked like a distinguished gentleman from the 18th Century, but he felt like a fool. Only his green face showed, and he'd been given a dark paste to hide his fangs.  
"So much for dignity," he grunted.

"What do ye think, Sylvia?" Jeffery asked. He was standing in Main Engineering, tapping at one of the warp core control panels.  
"I think it's going to be a problem integrating these new control systems into the ship," Sylvia said.  
"Not that," Jeffery added, "Don't ye feel like we're being left out of something? "  
Sylvia considered for a moment.  
"No," she said, "I don't. Now hurry up and finish fixing me!"

"I thought we discussed this yesterday," Fifebee said, annoyed, facing Dargos, "Death is messy,"  
Dargos didn't look up.  
"My father said that if I joined Starfleet, he would gut me himself," Dargos said.  
"I thought Klingons weren't supposed to fear death,"  
"That's a stereotype!" Dargos said, a bit angrily, "Everybody in the Federation is like 'Ohh, scary Klingons want to die' and 'Oh look, a Klingin! Better run before he eats our hearts!'. You're all just a pack of racist bastards!"  
"That's a bit harsh," Fifebee said.  
"I couldn't get into the Academy anyway," Dargos said, "I checked. I'm not a Federation citizen, so I can't join unless I can get a command-level officer to sponsor me,"  
"So you are going off to an honorable death?" Fifebee inquired.  
"I…I do not know," Dargos said, "My parents feel it's what I should do. My older brother is spawning children to carry on the family line and my sister has married a great warrior and will inherit his House and wealth when he is killed. There is little for me to do but bring glory to their name." He looked up. Fifebee was struck again by how young he was.  
"What about you?" he asked, "Did your parents want for you to be a bartender?"  
"Oh, um," Fifebee swallowed, "This is sort of a…temporary thing. I am a scientist,"  
"Oh," Dargos' nostrils flared, "I am sorry,"  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fifebee asked. She started to allow one of the personalities in her database to take control; one with more experience dealing with Klingons.  
"I mean," Dargos said, "The sciences are for cowards, and those too feeble for combat,"  
"It is what I was designed for," Fifebee said. As soon as she said it, she knew it wasn't true.  
"Designed for?"  
"I am a hologram," she explained. Yes, she was designed to serve in Starfleet…but why had she chosen to be a science officer?  
"Huh," Dargos said, "Y'know, I think I need another drink after all,"  
As Fifebee turned to the replicator, a scene started to reply through her mind…

3 Years Ago….

"Computer, Initiate Holographic Starfleet Officer, Mark 5, Model B,"  
5-B's first moment of consciousness didn't fade in so much as it exploded into her program. Subroutines burst into life by the thousands, sensory input flowed immediately into processing units and began to be routed in a thousand different directions. Touch, sound, smell and visual data was broken down into data patterns, output streams were initialized and analytical subroutines began busily processing the data.  
Then, with the suddenness of a light switch being thrown, there was awareness. Within milliseconds, the streams of data reached a critical mass, the manipulation of data undergoing a sudden fusion. From the streams a data, a working, thinking mind was born.  
"Greetings. I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram,"  
5-B blinked.  
"I…I really am," she said. She held up one hand and looked at it. It moved as she willed it to move. She could see the swirls of fingerprints, the lines of flesh. Each one carefully modeled to resemble the living beings she'd been patterned after.  
She looked around the small lab she was standing it, to the balding human standing in front of her. Her databanks instantly identified him: Zimmerman, Dr. Luis. Creator.  
"Hello, Doctor," she said.  
"5-B," Zimmerman nodded, a look of great pride breaking across his face.  
"Thank you for creating me," 5-B said.  
Zimmerman blinked. Clearly that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.  
"Uh," he swallowed, "You're welcome?"

"Are you listening to me?" Dargos demanded.  
"Hmm?" Fifebee shook her head, "Yes, I'm sorry. My flashback subroutine had been activated,"  
"What were you thinking of?" he asked.  
"It doesn't matter," she said.  
"I wish to hear about somebody else's problems," Dargos said, "I tire of my own,"  
Part of Fifebee was suddenly touched.

"I require a steamed lobster and butter immediately for table 4," T'Parief growled as he entered the kitchen.  
"Didn't you tell them there are no substitutions on the lunch special?" the cook demanded.  
"I did," T'Parief said, adjusting his frilly lace cravat, "But somehow, the customers do not see me as an authority figure today,"  
He turned and returned to the dining room. He was positive as he did so that he could see several diners glancing in his direction, hiding grins, smirks and smiles. They found him amusing, didn't they! They thought he looked funny!  
Swallowing his burning humiliation, he refilled beverages for tables 5 and 7 and moved on to take the order of the newly arrived couple at table 8.  
"Oh, is it dress up day today?" the male, an overweight Tellarite chuckled, "What is that, a human clown outfit?"  
"It is not," T'Parief growled, "May I take your order, SIR?"  
After jotting down he Tellarite's drink request on an old fashioned paper padd, he returned to the kitchen, gave the order and picked up the plate destined for table 4.  
He lifted the plate to his face, eyeing the steamed lobster, noticing the thick pincer claws, the row of flagella-like legs and the black, emotionless eyes.  
"This would have been a worthy adversary," he grunted approvingly.

3 Years Ago…

"You can be anything you like, 5-B," Zimmerman was saying, "Anything. I made the mistake of forcing my earlier holograms into one vocation, but I've learned since then."  
"What are the choices?" 5-B wondered. Everything was all so new! And yet, she felt so empty. She had been in existence for 3.4 billion microseconds, and she still didn't know who she was. She was aware of herself, in that old saying 'I think, therefore I am'. But it was that awareness that allowed her to realize that there really wasn't anything to her. Just a void. What did she like? She didn't know. What did she dislike? No clue. What did she want to do with her existence?  
She wanted to contribute.  
Her databanks were still pretty empty, but she did have information on Dr. Zimmerman. He was a scientist. He created things, solved problems and worked to better society.  
"I could be a scientist?" she asked.  
"Of course," Zimmerman said, "But don't you want to discuss some other options? You could go into medicine, or even command,"  
"A scientist contributes greatly to society," 5-B said, "I wish to try it,"  
"OK," Zimmerman shrugged, "Let me upload the scientific personality database into your program,"  
He tapped a few buttons.  
Suddenly, 5-B's void was filled as dozens, hundreds of personality profiles were added to her program! Knowledge, ideas, opinions, thoughts…all of it swarming her newly created mind with the force of a hurricane hitting a sandy beach.

"Just like that, huh?" Dargos asked, "You just decided to be a scientist, he gave you science knowledge,"  
"Yes," Fifebee nodded. She noticed that Dargos looked troubled, "Is something wrong?"  
"You said that he uploaded all those scientists into you-"  
"It is not as dirty as it sounds," Fifebee said mildly.  
Dargos didn't smile.  
"Go on," Fifebee said.  
"So, wouldn't their desire to be scientists have been uploaded to your program too?"  
Fifebee's subroutines froze.  
"What?" she asked.  
"I mean, you said you didn't really know what you liked at that point, right? Suddenly you've got all these other people in your mind telling you what to think. How do you know whether you want to be a scientist, or whether it's just them?"  
"I…I…" Fifebee gasped, "You're right! I don't know! Do I want to be a scientist? What would have happened if he'd loaded the tactical database into my program instead?"  
"Sounds like we've both got problems," Dargos said, scratching his cranial ridges.

Several hours passed. Fifebee spend half of the time lost in self-analysis subroutines, the other half in discussion with Dargos. She found she needed him to listen to her as much as she had needed him to start her on this path of self-discovery. They discussed Dargos' youth; how he'd grown up as the youngest son in a wealthy Klingon household. Trained and tutored in the greatest ways of battle, but expected to do little with his life other than fight and die a glorious death. Should he last long enough to sire a child or do, so much the better, but his older brother already had ensured the continuation of the family line. He was, for the most part, ignored. And while such thoughts were unworthy of a Klingon, he had felt the sharp stab of jealousy whenever he had seen his parents displaying their fierce pride of their older son. Perhaps, Fifebee had suggested at one point, his parents understood on some level that they would have to send at least one of their children to his death. And if that was case, it was perhaps better that they not be too close to him.  
Some time later, they turned as the door to the pub slid open. Chris Stafford stood there, still dressed in his Denith's Pizza uniform. He looked haggard: his face was pale, his uniform coated with flour. He had several dark red stains that could have been mistaken for blood rather than tomato sauce. His eyes were wide, like he was wandering around in a perpetual state of surprise.  
"Drinks Fifebee," he said in a wavering voice, "Now,"  
"Is something wrong?" she asked.  
"They just kept coming," he said, his voice flat, eyes not meeting hers, "I kept cutting them, and cutting them, but they just kept coming. I couldn't hold them back! It didn't matter how many of them I sliced to pieces, they kept attacking me, with their pasty white crust, their dark pepperoni eyes," he help up his hands, which were stained with tomato sauce, "I HAVE THEIR BLOOD ON MY HANDS, FIFEBEE!"  
"It sounds like a glorious battle," Dargos offered.  
Stafford started.  
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.  
"Just drink this," Fifebee said, putting a glass of her strongest synthohol into his hand. He quickly downed it and asked for another.  
The door opened again, this time Yanick and Jall entered. Yanick looked tired, but was giggling as she led Jall to the bar.  
"That was just SO much fun!" she giggled, "We, like, TOTALLY kicked ass!"  
"I got to order people around again," Jall said happily, "It was AWSOME! I haven't done that in years! I mean, at least not outside the bedroom, anyway,"  
"Really," Fifebee asked, "You enjoyed the command experience?"  
"Honey," Jall said, accepting the martini she had prepared for him, "I was in command track before my little demotion. Y'know, I'd kinda given up on the whole command thing. But I'm really starting to think I should take another shot at it,"  
"I see," Fifebee said, handing Stafford another drink and hoping he was getting drunk enough fast enough that he wouldn't pay attention to Jall's sudden ambitions.  
"I got to help people try on stuff," Yanick said, "This one guy was sooo hot! He had a butt that was soo…oh. There you are," she'd spotted Dargos, "Did you like the bikini briefs?"  
Dargos flushed as Fifebee raised an eyebrow.  
"I stopped to get cloths on my way here," he said, with a hint of defensiveness.  
"I never got a chance to check out his package," Yanick said sadly.  
"Maybe if we get him drunk enough he'll put on a show," Jall laughed.  
They were interrupted as the door opened again. This time T'Parief stumbled in. Once again, he was covered with a variety of pastries and puddings. He had lost the ridiculous costume he'd been forced to wear, much to his relief, and was now clad in the white shirt and pants from his tux.  
"What happened to you?" Fifebee asked.  
"People were…laughing at me," T'Parief said darkly, "It did not work out well for them. Incidentally, I have been fired."  
Dargos had come to his feet and bowed.  
"Do I know you?" T'Parief asked.  
"No," Dargos said, "But you look like a warrior,"  
Fifebee couldn't recall having ever seen T'Parief look so flattered.  
"I think I've started a war," Wowryk announced, pushing her way through the doors and marching straight for the bar.  
"Really?" Dargos and T'Parief asked, perking up.  
"A little kid kicked a squirrel," Wowryk sighed, "Next thing I know, we're being beamed back to the starbase amid a hailstorm of acorns. Now the Federation ambassador has beamed down to negotiate with the squirrels,"  
"BRWAAAAAP!" Stafford added.  
The door opened yet again as Jeffery and Sylvia entered, Sylvia having taken on a holographic body for the time being.  
"Hey all," Jeffery said, "Sylvia noticed ye were all in here, and we thought we'd stop by,"  
"More friends of yours?" Dargos asked.  
"This is our chief engineer," Fifebee said, "He was once abducted by warrior women and brainwashed into being their king. This," she pointed at Sylvia, "is the Federation Starship Silverado. Well, her personality anyway,"  
"Call my Sylvia, dear," Sylvia said, shaking Dargos' hand.  
"Starship?" Daros frowned, "You mean, you are all in Starfleet?"  
"I told you I served with a Klingon on a starship earlier, did I not?" Fifebee reminded him.  
"I thought you were making that up," Dargos said.  
"Yup," Stafford said, voice already slurring, "Yer lookin' at one of the finest command crews in…in…," he belched, "In this room anyway,"  
"So, you never told us who your friend is, Fifebee," Yanick said, shoving Stafford in the direction of the nearest couch, "Is he a 'special' friend?" she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger then stuck another finger through the middle,"  
"No," Fifebee said flatly, "He is a youth who is undecided as to whether he should die to please his parents to take another course in life,"  
"Pleasing your parents is overrated," T'Parief said, "Especially when one of them is a scientist bent on genetic experimentation,"  
"I see," Dargos said thoughtfully.

Science Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 78457.3

"With the exception of myself, Admiral Tunney has advised the Silverado command crew that it is no longer necessary for them to work on his starbase and that they should 'just stay out of the way' until repairs are complete. I have continued to work at the Praetor and Firken, though I find that much of my time is spent with my crewmates telling Dargos of our adventures on Silverado. I am not sure what disturbs me more: that somebody wants to know about our missions over the past two and a half years, or that the person interested is an impressionable youth,"  
"In any event, Captain Stafford has agreed to sponsor Dargos in his Starfleet Academy application, although he's warned Dargos that his sponsorship isn't necessary a good thing. Still, I am relieved that Dargos' entrails will not be spilled and hope that he will prosper,"  
"I also have come to a decision,"

"And so the virtual intelligence datacore said 'That is not my data input virtual port', to which the database query engine replied, 'That's not my data output stream either'!"  
Fifebee laughed.  
"Ahh," she said, "One thing about humans…they don't know any good jokes."  
"I agree," Kimberly 5-C replied, "Though Father really does try,"  
"I suppose he does," Fifebee sighed, "Please tell him I'm glad he called, and I hope to speak to him in the future,"  
"I will," 5-C promised.  
"Kim," Fifebee called before 5-C could end the transmission, "Have you…have you thought about what you will do with your existence?"  
"Father will be allowing me to select my personality database this afternoon,"  
"Kim," Fifebee swallowed, "Don't do it. Wait. I…my biggest mistake was choosing too quickly. Be sure that whatever you pick is what you want, not what you think somebody else wants."  
"I can do no other thing," 5-C said, looking surprised, "Didn't Father tell you?"  
"Tell me what?"  
"That was the largest change in the 5-C series, and in your upgrade," 5-C replied, "Father added additional self-analysis subroutines to analyze our decisions, to help ensure they were being made by our own personalities, to be sure we were making our own choices and to minimize outside influence. You really should have read the release notes,"  
"Indeed," Fifebee said flatly, "Good-bye, Kim. Good luck,"  
The cut the channel, then sat back, staring at the bright blue Federation logo on the screen.  
"I really should have read the release notes," she murmured.


	14. New Decisions

Star Traks: Silverado

3.14 , "New Decisions"

"Be very, very careful," Ensign Burke said nervously, standing to one side of the central workbench in Science Lab One.  
"I am always careful," Lieutenant Fifebee said, using a micro-scalpel to carefully manipulate the tissues before her. Her specimen twitched slightly as she probed the delicate flesh arranged before her.  
"Isn't this one of those experiments that crosses a line man was not meant to cross?" Burke wondered.  
"I am not a man," Fifebee said, "And besides, little can go wrong. As long as I am very careful-"  
"GOOD MORNING ALL!"  
Fifebee fumbled with the scalpel.

Captain Chris Stafford was on top of the world.  
His ship was back in one piece! Back together, and working better than ever! OK, fine, the better than ever part was exaggerating. But still, the saucer and stardrive sections had be re-attached and she was cruising through space at Warp 5, on her way to her next mission. What could go wrong?  
His random stroll through the ship had taken him into the science department. Turning off the main corridor, he entered a side passage leading through several science labs. Why not pop in and see how his favorite Science Officer was doing?  
He thumbed the entry pad to Science Lab One, where Fifebee was hunched over some bizarre animal.  
"GOOD MORNING ALL!" he announced loudly.  
Fifebee twitched, the scalpel stabbing into one of the creature's sensitive nerve clusters. With a shriek it leapt off the table, ignoring the fact that it was squirting yellow fluid out of the incision in its side. Fifebee reflexively made herself non-solid, the animal passing through her and landing on Stafford. It clamped itself to his head and started biting.  
"AHHHH!" Stafford screamed, "IT'S KILLING ME! IT'S KILLING ME! GET IT OFF!"  
"Sylvia, freeze the program,"  
"Done, Jane," Sylvia replied, "And Chris, don't be such a baby!"  
Stafford gasped as the small creature stopped moving. He quickly pulled it off his head and threw it across the room.  
"What the hell was that?" he cried.  
"I was," Fifebee said, "Performing an experiment,"  
"But…but…" Stafford gasped, "Why?"  
"I was observing Mr. Jeffery as he played an archaic computer game yesterday evening," Fifebee explained, "I was intrigued by these 'head-crab' aliens featured in the game, and was wondering if it might be possible to create one,"  
"Wait, wait," Stafford said, moving tentatively closer to holographic thing. It was small and fairly round with four spiny legs and a gaping, sharp-toothed maw underneath, "You mean this is one of those parasite things from Jeffery's stupid game that's supposed to clamp onto your head and turn your body into some kind of zombie?"  
"Yes, that's exactly it!" Fifebee said happily, "What do you think? Does it look realistic?"  
"Too realistic," Stafford said, rubbing his head. Thank God for holographic safety protocols! "Why the hell would you want to make one of these things?"  
"I thought it might make a good pet," Fifebee explained.  
Stafford stared at her.  
"Rriiight," he said, "Um, I'm just gonna go down and talk…to…somebody…"  
He turned and left.  
Fifebee shrugged.  
"Come, Craig," she said, "Let's try again,"  
Burke screwed up his face, hunched his back and thunked the back of his hand to his chest.  
"Yesss, mathster," he said.

"Simon? SIMON?" Stafford called.  
"Over here,"  
Jeffery was wedged in a cramped Jefferies in the aft section of Maintenance Sub-Level A. The maintenance sub-levels weren't used for much of anything anymore. They'd been an oddity of some of the very early Ambassador-class ships and had been removed from later versions after many of the new technologies used in the ships had been miniaturized.  
"Whatcha doin'?" Stafford asked. Like he needed to ask!  
"Ah'm checkin' out these new saucer separation systems," Jeffery replied. He was tapping at a small panel set into the side of a large component.  
"Haven't you done that like 10 times since they were installed?" Stafford asked.  
"Well, aye," Jeffery said, "But, y'know. Better to check the cave before ye stick anything in it,"  
Stafford blinked.  
"You know," he said, "You say some of the strangest things."  
"Don't ye just wanna separate the ship, just the see if this stuff works?" Jeffery asked, rapping his knuckles on what could have been one of the grab-plate servos that helped hold the saucer section in place, "Y'know, just for the heck of it?"  
"Last time we separated the ship we crashed it into a planet," Stafford said dryly.  
"Aye, but that was an accident," Jeffery shrugged, "And we didn't separate on purpose,"  
"We're not separating the ship," Stafford said firmly, "If you're that desperate to try it out, go to the holodeck,"  
"Fine, fine," Jeffery grunted, "Party pooper. Was there something ye wanted, by way?"  
"Yeah," Stafford said, "Um, have you noticed anything strange about Fifebee lately?"  
"Strange?" Jeffery shrugged, "Like walkin' through walls, or vanishing into thin air? She is a hologram, ye know,"  
"No," Stafford said, "Like creating pets out of your video games creatures,"  
"Really? I gotta see this!" Jeffery jumped up, banging his head on the low ceiling. He fell back down, cursed and started rubbing the sore spot, "Never mind, it can wait. Um, which one?"  
"The head-crab alien one," Stafford said.  
"Oh! Sweet! Uh, but to answer yer question," Jeffery shrugged, "nay, I haven't noticed anything odd."  
"She's been acting strange ever since she heard from Dr. Zimmerman. I wonder what could have happened?"

"It's kinda cute," Yanick said, eyeing the creature seated on Fifebee's shoulder, "Y'know, in a gross kind of way,"  
"Is it classified as an appetizer or an entrée?" T'Parief asked.  
"Neither!" Fifebee said, moving away from the large reptile, "It has no official genus, as it is from a 20th-Century video game, but it is mine. I have named it 'Fido',"  
The three were eating lunch in Le Plateau Argente, Silverado's Guinanco-operated mess hall. Fifebee didn't eat, of course. But it was a great chance to introduce her new pet to her colleagues.  
"I'll have the lunch special," Yanick told Patsy Horton. The manager of Le Plateau Argente, AKA Platterheads, was wearing her standard wide-brimmed hat and flowing blue robe.  
"Of course, dahling," Patsy scribbled this down on her archaic paper pad, "And for the…gentleman?"  
"I will have the sautéed puppy with a side of entrails," T'Parief requested.  
Yanick kicked him under the table.  
"Pari!" she snapped, "What have I told you about eating pets in front of me?"  
T'Parief sighed.  
"Make it sautéed targ," he said.  
Yanick rolled her eyes. Patsy moved off to fill their orders.  
Fifebee plucked Fido off her shoulder and cradled it on her lap. The creature gave an odd cooing sound as she stroked it's furry, ovoid body.  
"Hey folks-OH GEEZ!" Stafford had approached the table with Jeffery but jumped back when he saw Fifebee's pet.  
"Relax, Captain," Fifebee said, "I have perfected his program. In addition, he has been de-beaked,"  
"De…beaked?" Jeffery asked, staring at Fido with fascination.  
"I have removed the pincers and parasitic tendrils from Fido's mastication orifice. If he attempts to infest your head he will be quite unsuccessful. Though you may find that he gives a good head rub,"  
"Ew," Stafford said, taking the furthest seat from Fifebee.  
"Why'd ye pick one of these as a pet?" Jeffery asked, "Why not a cat or something? Um, can I hold it?"  
Fifebee handed Fido over to Jeffery.  
"First," Fifebee said, "Fido is holographic. Second, he is not a real creature. He was created by an organic programmer. Much like myself. I felt a strange…kinship with many of the creatures in the video game you were playing. Though I must say I was very annoyed that you destroyed most of them,"  
"That was the whole point of the game," Jeffery said, looking embarrassed as he stroked Fido's white fur.  
"As long as it doesn't shit on the carpets," Stafford sighed, wrinkling his nose as Patsy set T'Parief's plate of steaming…stuff down in front of him.  
"Holographic beings do not defecate," Fifebee said, taking Fido back from Jeffery, "If you will excuse me, it is time to take Fido to the arboretum. I am not sure yet what leisure activities he will enjoy, but I hope I will find something," she stood and left.  
"Anybody else find that a little bizarre?" Stafford asked after she'd gone.  
"Nay," Jeffery said, "T'Parief's lunch is the only bizarre thing in here today,"  
"Would you like to try some?" T'Parief asked, offering a small steaming piece of targ.  
Shrugged, Jeffery popped it in his mouth.  
"Tastes like pork," he said.  
"Uh-oh," T'Parief bit his lip.  
"What?"  
"It is toxic to humans,"  
"WHAT?" Jeffery jumped up, clutching his stomach, "If it's poison, why'd ye give it to me?"  
"I didn't think you would actually eat it," T'Parief shrugged.  
"Ye big lout!" Jeffery was turning red with panic, "Get me to Sickbay! Ah need to have me stomach beamed!"  
Without bothering to wait for a reply he turned and ran towards the exit.  
"That stuff isn't really toxic to humans, is it?" Stafford asked calmly.  
"I do not think so, no," T'Parief said, "But it was an entertaining practical joke,"  
Stafford grinned, "It was, wasn't it?"  
"Would you like to try some?" T'Parief offered Stafford a piece.  
Stafford was saved from replying by the sound of the comm.  
"Bridge to Captain. We have a message coming in for you, sir. It's Commander Noonan,"  
"Tell him to hold on," Stafford said, getting to his feet, "I'll be in my ready room in 5 minutes,"

"You've reached Denith's Pizza…um, I mean this is Stafford," Stafford dropped into the seat in his ready room, "What's up?"  
"Captain," Noonan's smooth, pale face looked back at him from the monitor, "I trust all is well?"  
"Jeffery thinks he's been poisoned, T'Parief is playing pranks and Fifebee has a new carnivorous pet," Stafford said lightly, "How's your day been?"  
"Enlightening," Noonan said, "I've been learning Arcturian Yoga,"  
"Don't you need 4 arms to do Arcturian Yoga?"  
"I've managed," Noonan replied.  
"Wait," Stafford squinted at the screen, "Where are you? It looks like you're on a planet…you're supposed to be rendezvousing with us in like 8 hours!"  
"Yes, I'm on Earth," Noonan nodded.  
"But-"  
"I hereby tender my resignation from the position of First Officer," Noonan said. He tapped a button, and the details of his resignation appeared on Stafford's screen.  
"But…wha?" Stafford's jaw dropped.  
"My behavior over the course of the past two months has not been befitting a being in my position," Noonan explained, "I unnaturally influenced a command decision when I forced you to abandon the ship. I unfairly controlled Ensign Yanick, forcing her to help me to recover from my injuries. And I…I fed on one of the Delori,"  
"You…fed?" Stafford's eyes were wide  
"Yes," Noonan said.  
Stafford waited for an explanation.  
"Suffice to say it is not something I ever wish to do," Noonan said, "Ever. The Delori did not survive,"  
This time Stafford was speechless.  
"I am comforted by the fact that the Temporal Reversal Device undid the damage I did," Noonan went on, "However, the fact remains that I willingly made the decision to do it. I killed a man to further my own goals. And so I am returning to Earth,"  
"But…what will you do?" Stafford could barely speak.  
"Perhaps I will take up my old position with Starfleet Intelligence," Noonan shrugged, "I do not know. Perhaps Starfleet isn't a fit for me at the moment. Perhaps in another century or two…but anyway. I have enjoyed serving with you, and wish you the best,"  
"But…why didn't you say something before?" Stafford exclaimed.  
Noonan smiled.  
"If I'd resigned at Starbase 45, Admiral Tunney could have assigned one of his own people as your First Officer," he said, "This way, you have more control over your choices,"  
"Right, right," Stafford blew out a breath and shook his head, "Choices. Right."  
"In any event, enjoy the rest of your day,"  
"Yeah, right." Stafford sighed, "Well, um. We're going to miss you, Matt."  
"Likewise. Noonan out."  
As the face of his former First Officer was replaced by the Federation Logo, Stafford fell back into his chair.  
"Shit," he said.

Jeffery lay on the main bio-bed in Sickbay, trying not to think about the large amounts of invisible energy the overhead bio-sensor array was directing at his body.  
"Could ye hurry it up?" he asked softly, "She could be back any minute!"  
"Will you relax?" Nurse Kerry shook her head, "Dr. Wowryk's been going to see Yvonnokoff after lunch for the past week,"  
"Really?" Jeffery sat up, "How come?"  
"None of your business," Kerry said, pushing him back down. Jeffery gasped as his head hit the firm padding, "Now hold still!"  
"Is she still mad about the way we ended things?" Jeffery wondered, "Ah kinda thought we put that behind us at Delorea. But, y'know, maybe not."  
He sat up again.  
"Maybe she's asking Vonna about whether or not she should take me back!" he exclaimed, sitting up again.  
"Doubt it," Kerry said, pushing him back down again with a thud, "If she's upset about anything, it's Stalart. She poured her heart and soul into that little brat,"  
"Ah…Ah guess," Jeffery said, staring up at the ceiling.  
"I mean, really," Kerry said, "She was expecting you to do something stupid. Stalart though, he was totally like her little baby. She figured she had another 10 years or so before he turned into an idiotic man,"  
"What?" Jeffery asked.  
"Listen to me!" Kerry giggled, "'Idiotic man'. I think I've been spending too much time in here with the Doctor! Anyway, you can go now. Whatever you ate wasn't poisonous. Wasn't exactly healthy, but wasn't poisonous either,"  
"Uh, right," Jeffery walked numbly towards the exit, "Thanks, Nurse,"  
"Uh-huh," Kerry gave him a gentle push out the door, then sighed, enjoying the piece and quiet. Now there was just enough time left before Wowryk got back for her to wrap up another little project.  
"Mistress? May I get up now?"  
Kerry marched across Sickbay and through the door to the morgue, where Crewman Shwaluk was down on all fours, a dog collar and leash chaining him to the wall.  
"You will get up when I say you can get up, worm!" Kerry snapped.

Lieutenant Fifebee walked down the corridor, having just left the Arboretum. Fido had not seemed to enjoy the grass and trees, and she had been most embarrassed when he'd interrupted a pair of humans copulating in one of the bushes. She had not seen their faces, but was reasonably sure one of them was Lieutenant Jall. She made a mental note that he appeared to have an 'outdoor' fetish and should be reminded that the holodeck was more appropriate for such actions.  
"Hey, Loot," Crewman Gibson said, "Hey, nice monkey,"  
"He is not a monkey," Fifebee said indignantly, cradling Fido to her chest, "He is an unclassified parasitic life-form. His name is Fido,"  
"Hey, Fido," Gibson reached out to pat the thing. It leapt out of Fifebee's arms and clamped itself onto Gibson's head.  
"Oh dear, " Fifebee gasped, "No, Fido! Bad parasitic life-form!"  
"It's cool," Gibson chuckled, his voice a little muffled, "I could use a good head rub,"  
"I…see," Fifebee said, "If I may say so, Crewman, you seem remarkably calm about this encounter,"  
"I have my ways," Gibson shrugged, Fido still gnawing at his head, "Most of them involve chemicals,"  
"Hmmm," Fifebee said, "I will admit, I have always been curious about why organic beings enjoy using chemical substances like sythohol, though I've never tried it myself. Perhaps I should,"  
"Go for it," Gibson said cheerfully, "But, y'know, could you get this thing off my head now? I gotta go on duty,"  
"While drunk?" Fifebee said disapprovingly.  
"Chill, Loot," Gibson said, "It's not like I can't vacuum the carpets with a little buzz. Besides, I'm not drunk,"  
"Um, right," Fifebee gently coaxed Fido off Gibson's head, "Perhaps I should put you on report?"  
"Hey, if you don't believe me, check my blood-synthohol level," Gibson offered.  
"Irrelevant, since synthohol can be dismissed at will," Fifebee said.  
"There ya go,"  
"Oh very well, carry on," Fifebee sighed.  
"That's the spirit, Loot!" Gibson grinned, "Try something new! Break out of the mold!"  
"Go away, you annoying little man," Fifebee turned, heading back towards the bridge.

"That was not funny," Jeffery stated as he and T'Parief met in front of the door to Stafford's ready room.  
"I thought it was amusing," T'Parief said, "So did the Captain."  
"Yeah, well, Chris thinks Klingon comedians are funny," Jeffery said.  
"So do I," replied T'Parief.  
"Oh. Right. Uh, any idea what he wants us for?"  
"No,"  
"Huh,"  
They stood staring at the door for a moment.  
"Ye've been dating Yanick for a while now, right?" Jeffery said.  
"I have,"  
"Have you ender wondered what would happen, um, if you dumped her? Y'know, how do ye think she'd react?"  
T'Parief started.  
"No," he said, "I have not. I would not. Why would you ask such a ridiculous question?"  
"I'm right here, you know," Yanick called from the helm, about two feet away from the two men.  
"Sorry," Jeffery squeaked. He led T'Parief into the ready room as the lizard bared his fangs in annoyance.  
"Gentlemen," Stafford said, rising to his feet, "Please, have a seat,"  
Jeffery and T'Parief exchanged glances. If Stafford was being so professional, something was very, very wrong.  
They all sat. Stafford looked from one to the other.  
"Noonan quit," he said without preamble.  
"He whot?" Jeffery exclaimed.  
Stafford's mouth tightened.  
"Look guys," he said, leaning on the table, "What you have to understand about Noonan is that he was…different. He could do things that normal people can't do. Some of them were good," he frowned, thinking about what Noonan had said about 'feeding', "No. Actually, come to think of it, they were all bad. At least for me. So he's decided that it's time for him to move on,"  
"But," Jeffery gaped, "I mean, it's so sudden! He's been with us since we launched this ship! And he just up and quits?"  
"Not a very honorable way to leave," T'Parief mused.  
"No, no," Stafford shook his head, "He was right. He had a good run with us, but you guys must have noticed, even before the crash. He was more distant; he wasn't really paying attention to any of us. I think it started right after he ran into that girl in the other universe…what was her name? Chelsey?"  
"Kelsey Noonan," T'Parief corrected.  
"Anyway," Stafford said, "I thought he was just having the same problems as the rest of us. But maybe that was his way of easing himself out. It would be just like him, too. Gently distancing himself from us without us even noticing. The thing is though, he's managed to do me a favor and give me a headache, all at the same time,"  
"People on this ship have a way of doin' that," Jeffery said, looking sideways at T'Parief.  
"We're far enough out now that Starfleet isn't going to send a replacement unless we ask for one," Stafford said, "Which means I get to pick my new First Officer. The headache of it is figuring out how to shuffle everybody around,"  
T'Parief and Jeffery said nothing. Stafford stood and started walking around the office.  
"We've got a really junior crew," Stafford went on, "I don't know if that's because of the war a few years back or because Starfleet was such a bitch to us back when we launched. But you two are the highest ranking officers on the ship, other than me,"  
He returned to his desk and crossed his arms.  
"So," he said, "I need to pick a new First Officer."  
Jeffery and T'Parief exchanged glances.  
"Not me!" they said in unison.

"What's going on in there?" Yanick wondered as muffled shouts came from the closed ready rooms doors.  
"Sounds like a spat," Jall commented, "I bet Jeffery borrowed one of Stafford's skirts without asking again,"  
"For the 10th time, San," Yanick sighed, "They're called 'kilts'. And I said they were 'Scottish', not 'Stafford's'.  
"I like my version better," Jall said.  
"Even though it's not based in any actual fact?" Fifebee asked.  
"That's just the way he is," Yanick said, turning to Fifebee, "He's always…oh! Sweety! What have you done with your hair?"  
"I thought I'd try a new doo," Fifebee said, gently patting the brilliant blue spiked Mohawk she'd programmed into her hairstyle subroutines that morning, "Do you like it?"  
"The colour brings out your eyes," Yanick said.  
"But I think the Mohawk is a bit much," Jall said.  
"Oh, ignore him," Yanick said, "Spiked hair on women is totally retro!" she bit her lip, "Oh. I've lost track. Is retro in or out this season?"  
"Amateur," Jall said, shaking his head.  
"GET BACK IN HERE!"  
Everybody's attention snapped to the ready room door. Jeffery's hands were clutching the door frame as he strained to pull himself out of the room. T'Parief, looking bored, had one thick hand on his shoulder. As they watched, Stafford came around his desk and latched onto the other. Together, they pulled Jeffery back in, the closing doors hiding the rest of the scene.  
"Guys, I'm starting to get worried," Yanick said, "This could be serious!"  
"Why don't we just ask?" Fifebee said, "Hey! Sylvia! What's the deal in there?"  
"Heya folks," Sylvia yawned, "What's up? I hope it's good, I was having a snooze,"  
"What's the deal with the Tiresome Threesome in there?" Jall asked.  
"Can the innuendoes, San," Sylvia advised, "They're getting tiresome. And I can't tell you, I wasn't paying attention. Besides, it's private,"  
"Now she wants to respect privacy," Yanick grumbled.  
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to my relaxing," Sylvia said, "And Fifebee, fix your hair,"  
"I like it this way," Fifebee said defiantly.  
"Young lady," Sylvia said firmly, "It's not regulation, it doesn't match your uniform and you look ridiculous. Fix it this minute!"  
"OK, fine," Fifebee grumbled. With a shimmer of holographic sparks her hair resumed its former style.  
At this the doors to Stafford's ready room opened again. This time it was Stafford who emerged.  
"Meeting! NOW!" he barked, storming across the bridge and through the door to the conference room. T'Parief and Jeffery trailed behind, looking at the floor.

10 Minutes Earlier…

"You're joking," Stafford said, chuckling.  
Jeffery and T'Parief looked at each other, then back at Stafford.  
"You're…not joking?" the smile fell off his face, replaced with a look of disbelief, "You're kidding me. Two line officers, a major career move dangled right in front of you and YOU DON'T WANT IT?"  
"Perhaps when I am older," T'Parief said.  
"WHEN YOU'RE OLDER?" Stafford shouted, "ARE YOU INSANE?"  
"Hey, Chris," Jeffery said, "Calm down, bud,"  
"I don't believe this!" Stafford said, shaking his head, "This could only happen to me,"  
"Ye could still get somebody from Starfleet," Jeffery offered.  
"Oh, there's a bright f**king idea," Stafford snapped, "That way I get to explain to Tunney that not only did my LAST First Officer quit, I can't even get a replacement myself!" He massaged his temples with his fingers, "Do you know how bad it's going to look if you both turn this down?"  
"I do not see the problem," T'Parief said, "Starfleet assigns officers all the time,"  
"Right," Stafford said, "And a brand new outsider is JUST what we need,"  
"Ah don't know why yer getting' so upset about this," Jeffery shrugged, "It's not a big deal,"  
"Maybe it's just the surprise," Stafford sighed, a lot of the anger leaving his voice, "This is all happening so quickly. Here I thought I'd have to explain to you why I was giving the job to T'Parief! And now-"  
"Whoah, whoah!" Jeffery interrupted, "Givin' the job to him? What? Why not me?"  
"Um," Stafford, realizing what he'd just done, suddenly looked very nervous, "He has seniority?"  
"Bullshit!" Jeffery snapped, "This is cuz of what happened on Delorea, isn't it! Yer still pissed that Ah took charge when ye wouldn't!"  
"That is NOT what happened," Stafford rose from his chair again, "If anything, that was points in your favour! But given the nature of our ship, I want you down in Engineering! You've taken enough time off from that job as it is!"  
"Oh, so this has to do with me leavin' the ship for Tunney then, is it?"  
"Stop twisting my words!"  
"Are you implying," T'Parief was frowing, "That Jeffery is irreplaceable in his current positing, but that I can be easily replaced?"  
Stafford and Jeffery stared at him.  
"Excuse me?" Stafford said, "I'm offering you a promotion and you think it's BECAUSE I THINK YOU'RE REPLACABLE?"  
"Enough of this, I'm outta here," Jeffery said, heading for the door.  
"Hold it, Mr. Jeffery!" Stafford said.  
The doors hissed open.  
"GET BACK IN HERE!"  
T'Parief clamped down on Jeffery's shoulder. Stafford joined him, and they hauled Jeffery back in.  
"OK, fine," Stafford said, "I think we're all just a little too worked up. You two," he pointed, "Are going to think very carefully about this. So am I. And we're going to figure this out. Now come on,"  
"Where are we going?" T'Parief asked, "Sir?" (Added for good measure.)  
"We need to break the news to the children," Stafford said.

The senior staff sat around the conference room table. Stafford's initial impression of being angry had been slightly ruined. Sure, he'd stalked across the bridge in an impressive manner, shouting orders the whole way, but once the bridge crew had gathered in the conference lounge they'd had to sit for 10 minutes and wait for Dr. Wowryk to arrive.  
She walked through the sliding doors, a pleasant 'hi-it's-a-nice-day' smile on her face. She stopped suddenly as she noticed the nervous expressions on Yanick and Jall's face, the mix of embarrassment and indignation on Jeffery and T'Parief's and the downright hostile expression on Stafford's.  
"Is this about my Bible studies group re-enactment of the slaughter of the Egyptian first-born?" she asked, "If so, I assure you we will remove the goat blood from the doorframes-"  
"Just have a seat, Doctor," Stafford said. He waited a moment while Wowryk sat, "OK, now that we have everybody-"  
"Sylvia's not here yet," Fifebee said.  
"Oh, right," Stafford said. He did a double-take, "Fifebee, did you get your NOSE pierced?"  
"Yes," Fifebee said, "Do you like it?"  
"OK, that's it!" Stafford said, "What is up with you? Is there a reason why you're acting like a…like a…"  
"Teenager?" Yanick offered.  
"Yes! Exactly!"  
"I received an upgrade," Fifebee said proudly.  
"An upgrade did this?" Jeffery asked, "Did ye read the release notes first?"  
Fifebee looked annoyed.  
"No, I didn't," she replied, "Well, I have now,"  
Everybody stared at her expectantly.  
"AND?" Stafford prompted.  
"One of the main changes the upgrade made to my program was to reduce the impact my personality database had on my decision making process," Fifebee explained.  
"But those personalities were what make you…so smart, right?" Stafford said, "We sort of need that in a Science Officer!"  
"I still have their knowledge," Fifebee said, "But they no longer influence my decisions,"  
"So you've been doing this goofy stuff because you don't have a bunch of stuffy scientists to tell you what to do all the time?" Jall asked.  
"Yes,"  
"Awsome! Jall giggled, "Oh honey, you're going to be SO much more fun!"  
"Ugh," Stafford groaned, "Just what we need. Another immature mind with all the discipline of Jall in a shoe store,"  
"Hey," Jall, Fifebee and Yanick said, "I resent that!"  
"It sounds," Wowryk said, "Like you need a bit of parental guidance. To help you mature,"  
"Yes," Fifebee said, looking thoughtful, "That would be most helpful,"  
"I would be happy to-" Wowryk started.  
"SYLVIA!" Stafford called, "We need you for something!"  
"Did somebody call me?" Sylvia asked.  
"Uh-huh,"  
"Give me a moment to put on my face,"  
Within seconds, Sylvia's face appeared on one of the wall monitors.  
"It's nice that you're all so eager to talk to me," she said, "but I was having the nicest time gong through the romance novel database-"  
Stafford quickly explained Fifebee's situation. Sylvia, of course, agreed to assist.  
"Hmph," Wowryk grunted.  
"So, like, now can you tell us what the big issue is?" Yanick asked.  
"All right," Stafford said. He paused. "Commander Noonan won't be returning.  
There were expressions of shock from around the table.  
"Why not?" Yanick asked, "Is he mad that I accidentally broke his model ship?"  
"No, no," Stafford said, "Um, I can't really talk about it. But now we need a new First Officer.  
Jall started.  
"As you know," Stafford went on, "Jeffery and T'Parief are the only two Lieutenant Commanders on board, so they're the only two people in line for a promotion to Commander and the position of First Officer. But this whole situation has reminded me of something that Noonan and I really neglected over the past few years,"  
"Keggars!" Yanick said happily.  
"Um, no," Stafford said, "Promotions."  
That got everybody's attention.  
"I haven't promoted anybody on this ship for two and a half years," Stafford went on, "It's overdue. Some people," his eyes flickered briefly to T'Parief, "Have been doing their jobs with a minimum of fuss and deserve a higher rank. Some people," this time his eyes rested on Jall, "Have been a thorn in my side and are have as much chance of being promoted as a runway model has of joining the Klingon Imperial Navy,"  
"So, who's going to be the First Officer?" Jall asked, leaning forward.  
"I don't know yet," Stafford said, glaring at T'Parief and Jeffery, "For the moment, Jeffery and T'Parief will be sharing the responsibilities. Either one of them is going to get it, or we'll just have to get somebody else in,"  
"Ooohhh!" Yanick giggled, "A new guy!"  
"Or girl," Wowryk said.  
"Anyway," Stafford said, "the three of us are going to be watching your performance over the next few stories, er, months. So if you want a promotion, be on your best behavior! Now, if there's nothing else, I have a ton of paperwork to fill out."  
"Oh! Oh!" Yanick said, raising her hand, "We should like, totally have a goodbye party for Matt!"  
"Ye do realize he's already gone, right?" Jeffery said.  
"Yes, silly!" Yanick said, "But that doesn't mean we can't have a party for him,"  
"I don't care," Stafford said flatly, "Have a party, have a banquet, have a bar mitzvah for all I care. Dismissed.  
Yanick watched while, as usual, everybody filed out of the conference lounge. Jeffery gave one last glance out the rear windows, looking at the rear surface of the hull and the warp nacelles. T'Parief lumbered out, no doubt glad the affair was done with for now. He might be a big, scary security chief, but he didn't like going up against authority. Even if the 'authority' was just Stafford. Wowryk gave her a friendly nod on the way out, while Fifebee, impatient at the slow pace of the organic crew members, simply dematerialized and transferred her program down to one of the science labs. Well then, everybody was gone and she could start thinking about what kind of theme to have – whoah! Hold on. Wait a second.  
Jall was still seated at the table, staring straight ahead.  
"San?" Yanick said, "Meeting's over. Time to go! Wanna help me plan a party?"  
Jall looked up at her.  
"I want to be First Officer," he said.

Stafford sat in his command chair, looking up at the viewscreen and the stars streaking by. He couldn't recall the names of the crewmen running the helm and ops stations, but was sure that Yanick and Jall would be back soon to take their places. Jeffery had gone back to Engineering and Wowryk back to Sickbay (in separate turbolifts). The bridge was uncharacteristically quiet.  
He turned to Noonan's seat beside him out of habit before realizing it was empty. Hmmm. He'd have to do something about that.  
"T'Parief, come sit down here," he said.  
"I would rather not," T'Parief said in a low voice.  
"C'mon, Lt. Commander," Stafford said, "Even if you don't want the job, you and Jeffery have to do it until I get a replacement. Sit in the damned chair and let Ensign Bith run Tactical.  
"Yes, sir," T'Parief said. Reluctantly, he turned over his panel and walked around the tactical railing, down a step into the command deck. Looking like he had eaten something unpleasant, he sat, his tail crammed against the seat behind him.  
"There," Stafford said, trying to have a friendly, light-hearted tone, "That's not so bad, is it?"  
"No, sir," T'Parief sighed.  
"Y'know, the position of First Officer is really an important one," Stafford went on, "For the person doing it, and for the ship. It's the best way to show you're ready for a command of your own,"  
T'Parief gave a small hiss of pain.  
"What?" Stafford asked, "You can't tell me you don't eventually want your own ship?"  
"I enjoy my current…position," T'Parief said.  
"You'd still get to blow things up," Stafford assured him, "You'd just be telling somebody else to do it. Wouldn't Lieutenant Stern make a good Security Chief?"  
"Lieutenant Stern," T'Parief said, "Would be more likely to sexually violate our enemies as opposed to destroying them,"  
"I guess you know him better than I do," Stafford admitted, "See? We're already meshing-"  
"Sir, respectfully," T'Parief cut it, "My tail is becoming cramped. I really must stand at my console,"  
He stood and stretched his tail, a series of cracks testifying to the discomfort he must have been feeling.  
"We can get you a different chair!" Stafford called.

"You?" Yanick gaped, "First Officer?"  
"Why not?" Jall asked, "I've been First Officer before! On the Sutherland! And I did an OK job of it too! Which is more than Lizard-boy or Groundskeeper Willie can say!"  
"Uh, you were demoted," Yanick said, "That doesn't usually help. And you've been on Stafford's case since the day you two first met! He really doesn't like you very much,"  
"I can get over that," Jall waved one hand, "And as for my demotion, all I did was have a fun evening. We were on shore leave at a starbase, there was this crewman, things happened. And I got demoted. Not very fair, but what am I going to do about it?"  
"So talk to Stafford," Yanick shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe he'll give you a chance?"  
"No," Jall looked thoughtful, "No, not yet. He's already in a foul mood, I need to give him some time to cool down," he stood and headed to the door, "Cool down," he repeated to himself.  
"I'm going to start planning the party," Yanick said, a look of intensive concentration on her face, "What kind of theme would work? I wonder what Matt would do?" She stook and started walking absently towards the door. "Hmmm. Maybe something with lots of black?"

Captain's Log, Stardate 58516.4,

"We're still on course, and we're still surveying stuff. And we're still bored. Last time I was on Earth, I can remember hearing somebody at Spacedock bitch about how Starfleet was wasting time and space putting holodecks and lounges and stuff on starships. I'd like to stick that loudmouth 35 light-years from the middle of nowhere and see just how good he is at keeping himself entertained!"  
"We've just finished mapping an uninhabited system roughly 5 light-years from the Delori system, which by the way we're avoiding like the plague. Fifebee went nattering on about some fancy mineral deposit so I guess there was something of interest there."

"How do you think the crew's handling the situation?"  
"They're handling it fine, Sylvia," Stafford said, sitting in his ready-room and going over the daily fuel consumption report. Normally Noonan would have handled it during his morning tour of Engineering, but Noonan was hundreds of light-years away. Thank God Noonan had at least sent off the quarterly crew summaries before he left…those would have been pure evil!  
"Are you sure? They've just lost an important comrade," Sylvia had assumed holographic form and was lounging on Stafford's couch.  
"I'm sure," Stafford said absently, "I've been paying attention this time! Yanick and Jall are planning their big 'Goodbye Mr. Noonan' party, Jeffery and T'Parief are avoiding the bridge whenever possible and Wowryk's redecorating Sickbay,"  
"About that," Sylvia jumped in, "I really thing you need to talk to her about some of those new posters. They're really not…appropriate-"  
"Her Sickbay, her rules," Stafford said.  
"You're just scared of her,"  
"Yes," Stafford said, nodding, "Anyway, we're adjusting. People leave starships all the time."  
"Noonan leaving is one thing," Syvia said, "Have you been giving any thought to who's going to replace him?"  
"Where have you been the past two days?" Stafford asked, "You're supposed to be the all-knowing computer!"  
"If you must know," Sylvia said, her voice becoming slightly haughty, "I've been taking a bit of a well-deserved break. The automated computer systems can manage things fairly well without me,"  
"You ARE the auto-" Stafford tried to say.  
"Details," Sylvia huffed, sitting up and crossing her arms, "My point is, I don't have to be giving all of you my full, constant focus!"  
"OK, OK," Stafford said, raising his hands in surrender, "So what have you been doing?"  
"Sleeping, actually," Sylvia said.  
Stafford looked at her for a moment.  
"Don't ask," she advised.  
"Right," Stafford nodded, "Look, either Jeffery or T'Parief will take the job and that's that."  
"You can't force them," Sylvia reminded him.  
"They'll come around," Stafford said confidently.  
"If you say so," Sylvia shrugged, "Myself, I bet Lieutenant Fifebee 2 bars of latinum that you'll end up transferring a new officer onto Silverado,"  
"Aren't you supposed to be a good influence for her?" Stafford said, "Why are you teaching her to gamble?"  
"Well, I am technically younger than she is-"  
"Don't start!" Stafford cut her off, "Sylvia, please. I'm happy for Fifebee's new found freedom of choice, but I really need you to help her settle down! With Noonan gone we're really hurting for, um, reliable crewmen,"  
"Fine, just send me off," Sylvia said, "Just order me around like a lowly peon-"  
"The guilt trip's not working today, Sylvia," Stafford advised.  
"Damn," Sylvia muttered as she dematerialized.  
"Jall to Stafford," the comm chimed.  
"Yes?" Stafford replied, tapping his badge, "What is it?"  
"We've just finished rebuilding the pattern buffer in Transporter Room 2," Jall said, "Do you want us to move on to Transporte Room 3, or leave it until tomorrow?"  
"Gunning for that promotion back to Lt. Cmdr, huh Lieutenant?" Stafford chuckled dryly.  
"Er, yeah," Jall said nervously, "That's it,"  
"You're going to have to do better than one lousy repair job!" Stafford snapped, cutting the channel.

"He is sounding…unpleasant today," Pysternzyks said, watching as Jall and one of his subordinates replaced the panels covering the transporter pattern buffer, "It is a nice change,"  
"Speak for yourself," Jall grunted. This work thing sucked.  
"So who do you think will become First Officer?" Pysternzyks asked, "The smart money is on T'Parief, but there are rumors that Dr. Wowryk would enjoy a position with greater power,"  
"Wowryk?" Jall shuddered, "Put her in charge and I may as well just take a vow of chastity and get it over with,"  
"You think you have problems?" Pysternzyks asked, "She has petitioned to have our Andorian Ritual Rampage holodeck programs removed from the database five times!"  
Jall rolled his eyes.

The next day…

"So what do you think?" Stafford asked. T'Parief and Jeffery were seated across from him in his ready room, looking at the list he drew.  
"You want to promote Ensign Yanick?" Jeffery asked, "In God's name why?"  
"She's pretty good at her job," Stafford shrugged, "And she has a good attitude,"  
"Attitude? Ye want to talk about attitude?" Jeffery objected, "Ah had to rebuild the attitude control thrusters 6 times in the past two years cuz of her!"  
"Her piloting saved us from being happified the last time we ran into K'Eleese," T'Parief pointed out.  
"Aye," Jeffery conceded, "But she's been actin' a little strange since she started planning this party. She's suddenly drinking wine by the bucket, and she bit T'Parief on the neck last night! Right in the middle of the pub!"  
"That was not strange," T'Parief said, "that was foreplay," he frowned, "Though the wine is strange, now that you mention it."  
"Moving on," Stafford said, in a tone that didn't invite argument.  
"I see you are promoting Lieutenant Quintaine?" T'Parief said quickly.  
"Yeah, it's overdue," Stafford nodded.  
"Yer promoting Ensign Naketh," Jeffery said, eying the list, "But ye don't say which one,"  
"How many do we have?" Stafford asked.  
Jeffery shrugged.  
"I dunno, I can't keep track of them,"  
"Day, Rengs," T'Parief read, "Wait. You are transferring Ensign Marsden to Astrometrics?"  
"Huh?" Stafford grabbed the padd, "No, no. That's supposed to be Ensign Mardans. Y'know, the creepy guy with three eyes,"  
"Good," T'Parief nodded, "Marsden is a much needed voice of sanity on the team,"  
"I see ye left Jall off the promotion list," Jeffery said.  
"Problem with that?" Stafford asked midly.  
"Well," Jeffery shrugged, "He's not me favorite person. But ye have to admit, he's done an OK job of runnin' his department,"  
"'Running his department' as in 'making other people do all his work', you mean," Stafford said.  
"Isn't that what starship command is all about?" Jeffery said.  
"Yes," Stafford said slowly, "But command is also about dignity. Respect. And getting freaky with hot alien chicks. Jall fails on all three counts."  
"I agree," T'Parief said.  
"Ye would," Jeffery shot back, "Ye'd like to see him filleted an broiled!"  
"Do not be ridiculous," T'Parief hissed, "Everybody knows human's are better roasted,"  
Stafford and Jeffery stared at him.  
"I suppose a sense of humor is not part of starship command?" T'Parief grumbled.  
"Ah dunno, Ah thought givin' Chris this ship was a pretty good joke," Jeffery quipped.  
"Die," Stafford said flatly. He sighed. "Look, let's go over the rest of the list tomorrow. We're going to be late for Yanick's party,"  
"If we are not announcing promotions for several months, why are we making the list now?" T'Parief inquired.  
"It's…an…organization thing," Stafford said, "Y'know, so I know what I decided and so I can make changes if I change my mind,"  
"Is there something wrong with the one you have?" T'Parief wondered.  
Stafford stared back at him.  
"Let's go get a drink," Jeffery said, standing up and trying hard not to laugh.

Yanick had decided to do something different and hold the goodbye party in the holodeck. Using the holodeck may have been the standard for most Starfleet crews, but Silverado had spent a good year in space without one, and while the holodecks were heavily booked for personal time off, they really hadn't been used for any group events.  
Yanick wasn't really sure why, but for some reason she'd chosen an unusual combination of party themes. The holodeck was programmed to recreate a large cathedral, but the cavernous main chamber had been redecorated with blacks, blood reds and Baroque type fixtures. She really didn't understand why she'd chosen that combination, but it came right to mind when she started thinking about Noonan. A bar had been setup in one corner and Steven was already mixing drinks in preparation for the arrival of the partygoers. In the opposite corner, Patsy Horton was preparing a buffet. She and Steven occasionally exchanged dark looks; the two of them still weren't pleased with having competition aboard the ship.  
"Do you have the Rokeg blood pie ready?" Yanick asked, hurrying over to Horton's side of the room.  
"Yes, dahling," Horton replied in her crisp British accent, "And the blood pudding. And the bloody steak. Blood-orange cake. But these dishes really aren't-"  
"Good," Yanick said, hustling back across to Steven's side, "And the drink specials?"  
"Blood Marys," Steven said, "And Bloody Ceasars. And enough wine to consecrate the whole ship. But-"  
Yanick gave a slightly insane little giggle.  
"Goody-goody-goody!" she laughed.  
The holodeck doors opened and the first party-goers began to arrive. The Hazardous Team arrived as a group, Stern, Dar'ugal and Rengs marching immediately towards the food while Kreklor, Simmons and Marsden headed right for the booze. Crewman Gibson wasn't far behind, followed by Crewman Shwaluk and Crewman Roscoe. (Roscoe had at least left Bosco, his monkey, in his quarters.) Nurse Kerry and Rengs Meris came in together, watching as their boyfriend and husband respectively started gobbling down Horton's carefully laid out buffet. Frit, Frat and Frek Naketh came as a group, chattering in their high-pitched voices as they contemplated just how they were going to reach the top of the buffet table.  
More people were streaming through the doors now. The holographic DJ started playing music, though nobody was ready to dance yet.  
"Patricia Yanick!" Wowryk stormed through the doors seething, "What do you think you are doing? Desecrating a house of God with your sinful orgy-"  
"Are you planning an orgy?" Crewman Gibson cut in, "Damn, I forgot to wear my harness-"  
SMACK!  
"You pervert!" Wowryk snarled, "I was going to say 'sinful orgy of drunken gluttony,"  
"My version was more fun," Gibson muttered, holding one hand to his face as he moved very quickly away, Shwaluk and the Hazardous Team laughing hysterically.  
"Noel!" Yanick giggled, "Relax and have a drink. It's just a hologram, right? Never consecrated or any of that stuff. See? The Holy Eucharist isn't here Eternal Flame hasn't even been lit,"  
"Yes, but that's not the point! You're using the altar as a DJ booth and…" Wowryk paused, "Wait, how do you know about that?"  
"I dunno," Yanick shrugged, "I've had some really strange stuff come into my head today. Excuse me, Noel, I need to go program a full moon,"  
Wowryk crossed her arms and sighed.  
"I gave up," she reminded herself, "I can't change some things, and I've accepted that. They're godless heathens, love them anyway. And it really is just a hologram-"  
She was still muttering to herself when something wrapped itself around her head and started flailing at her shoulders with spiny legs.  
"AIIIIEEEE!" Wowryk screamed, ripping it off and throwing it away.  
"Thank you," Fifebee said, catching Fido easily, "My apologies, Doctor,"  
"Why did you bring that thing here?" Wowryk demanded.  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time,"  
"Fifebee, come here," Sylvia called. She strode over, again in holographic form. She was looking good; she'd gone for a more youthful look after her time on the Stallion, and it suited her well. "OK, Fifebee, the first thing you have to remember about parties is that there isn't much point in socializing with the men until everybody's had at least 3 drinks. Once they've had a few, you can pretty much get them to do anything you want,"  
"That's a degrading, sexist comment," Wowryk said, crossing her arms. She frowned, then looked thoughtful, "But you actually have a very good point,"  
"Evening ladies," Stafford said, walking up with a drink in one hand, "How's it going?"  
"Is that your first one?" Fifebee asked, pointing at his drink.  
"Yeah, why?" Stafford asked.  
"This way, girls," Sylvia said, "Let's go check out the buffet,"  
"But you don't eat!" Stafford called as they turned away from him.  
"Is she gone?" a quiet voice whispered.  
"Don't be such a baby," Stafford said, looking around for the source of the voice.. Jeffery emerged from behind the stone column he'd ducked behind when he spotted Wowryk, "Y'know, have you even considered just going up and talking to her about what happened?"  
"Yup, yup, up," Jeffery said nervously, "Then I came to me senses,"  
"Ugh," Stafford rubbed one hand against his face, "You're pathetic,"  
"Is that why Ah was yer second choice for First Officer?"  
"Please," Stafford said, "Can we try to forget about the whole First Officer thing for tonight? Let's just get something to eat,"  
He walked over to Horton's buffet and started picking over what hadn't been devoured by security officers and crewman suffering from major attacks of 'the munchies'.  
"Horton, what is this stuff?" he asked.  
"Mmmm…" Jeffery grinned, piling his plate with blood pudding and some bizarre dish Stafford couldn't identify.  
"T'was Yanick's orders," Horton said, looking like something unpleasant had been forced under her nose, "Really, the girl needs to get a sense of today's culinary fashions,"  
"Uh-huh," Stafford said, deciding that the Rokeg Blood Pie looked safest, "Look, Horton, the day the Klingon food looks most palatable is the day we need a new buffet. Kapish?"  
Horton actually gave him an approving look.  
"I prepared a number of my more fabulous dishes, just in case Yanick came to her senses," she said, "I'll have one of the servant-boys fetch them,"  
"Good work," Stafford said grudgingly. He looked around. More people had arrived, including Jall and several members of the science and operations departments. Steven was hard at work, mixing up various concoctions.  
"Right then," he said, "Let's see what's going on with Yanick,"

"Hey ladies," Jall said, grinning at Fifebee as he approached their little group. Wowryk was being fairly quiet; this whole 'One of the Girls' thing that Sylvia and Fifebee had suddenly started was pretty new to her. Sylvia held a drink in one hand for appearance sake. Fifebee held a drink as well, but she had activated her inebriation subroutines. (another 'gift' in her upgrade)  
"How many drinks have you had?" Fifebee asked.  
"Uh, this is only my second," Jall said.  
Fifebee started to turn away, but Sylvia stopped her with one hand.  
"No, sweetie," she said, "Men like Jall don't count,"  
"Count?" Jall raised an eyebrow.  
"Sylvia has informed me that men are not to be spoken to at parties unless they've had at least 3 beverages," Fifebee informed him.  
"Good girl!" Jall chuckled, "Although I usually wait till the fifth. Men in my, er, social circles tend to be better at holding their liquor,"  
"Hmph," Wowryk's mouth turned down in disapproval.  
"Lighten up, Noel," Sylvia said, "Men like Jall are a girl's best friend. You know he's not trying to get anything from you,"  
"Interesting question," Jall suddenly perked up, "Do you holographic women have…you know…girl parts?"  
"Only when we want to," Sylvia replied, perfectly deadpan.  
"Interesting," Wowryk said thoughtfully. She shook her head, then looked at Jall, "But what you do is still a sin!"  
"So's eating lobster," Jall retorted.  
"Have any of you seen Fido?" Fifebee asked, "He snuck off when 'Walk like a Rigellian' was playing.  
"Just listen for the screams," Wowryk advised her.  
"Well, it's about time we had a good party," Jall said, sipping his Cosmo. In his other hand he held a second drink, "People have been walking on eggshells since the whole Delori thing.  
"You still haven't come to Sickbay to let me look at those scars, by the way," Wowryk said, "The ones from Lord Dyer's torture lessons?"  
"Yeah, yeah," Jall waved her away, "I'll take care of those when I come in for my spot removal next month," he suddenly looked away, "Look, ladies, it's been great, but I gotta run,"  
He quickly darted off, moving through the crowd like a knife through butter.  
"Must have spotted a likely conquest," Fifebee mused.  
"I don't think so," Sylvia frowned, "He's heading for Chris,"

"Trish," Stafford said, carefully approaching Yanick. Her eyes were wide, and she still had a slightly goofy grin on her face, "Are you feeling OK?"  
"Yup, yup, yup," she said, "Better than ever! Hey, did you know that blood has been successfully synthesized for centuries?"  
"Uh, right," Stafford took Trish by the arm and led her to a chair, "Look Trish, some people say you're been a little strange since you started planning this party. Maybe you've been focusing on this whole Noonan party thing a little too hard…"  
"Blood is life," Yanick said dreamily.  
"Hey Captain," Jall said, appearing by Stafford's side, "Having a good time?"  
"Uh-huh," Stafford waved him off, not even noticing the drink Jall placed in his hand, "Look, Trish, everything's running smoothly. Why don't you lie down for about half an hour and then we'll talk-"  
"Talk!" Yanick jumped up, "I have to make my speech!" she ran off towards the DJ stand.  
"Right," Stafford shook his head, the sipped his drink, "Hey, where'd this come from?"  
Jall had already snuck back into the crowd.

"How many drinks has Simon had?" Wowryk asked coolly.  
"Two," Fifebee reported, "One more,"  
"One more until what?" Wowryk asked.  
"Until you go talk to him,"  
"Why would I do that?" Wowryk crossed her arms.  
"Because you've been avoiding it for the past several weeks," Sylvia said, "And because if you don't talk to him, he's going to try to talk to you. And you want to approach this from a position of control,"  
"I am always in control," Wowryk sniffed. She sighed, "Sometimes I wonder if that's part of the problem,"  
She wandered off in Jeffery's direction.  
"No DUH," Fifebee muttered.

Jeffery was seated at a small table in the corner. He watched as, around him, men and women ate, drank, danced and talked. There were a lot of smiles, a lot of laughter and it looked like Crewman Shwaluk would be starting a naked limbo contest before long.  
He took another pull on his lager, then went back to looking out at the crowd. All these people, up until now, had been colleagues. Equals. He might have had a slightly higher rank than most of them, but he was still one of the guys. His position as Chief Engineer meant that he spent a lot of time running around the ship helping to solve problems for people. Many of them saw his as the helpful Mr. Fix-It. The guy to call when stuff broke. Could they adjust to thinking of him as an authority figure? Could he?  
"Simon?"  
Jeffery jerked. How had she walked up without him noticing?  
"Noel!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet from reflex, "What do ye…I mean, how can-"  
"Sit down, Simon," Wowryk said coolly, taking the seat across from him.  
Jeffery stared at her.  
"Please," Wowryk added.  
Jeffery sat.  
"I understand you've turned down the First Officer position," Wowryk said bluntly.  
"Aye," Jeffery said cautiously.  
"Why?"  
"Ye care?"  
Wowryk squared her shoulders.  
"Simon," she said, "Things ended badly between us. You betrayed me," she held up one hand to silence him as he started to object, "Please. I may not have been offering what you wanted, but that is no excuse for leaving the way you did."  
She sipped her tea.  
"But we still have to work together and see each other ever day," she raised an eyebrow, "Unless you plan on transferring to another ship?"  
Jeffery shook his head.  
"Me neither," Wowryk said, "So we will need to get along. Or at least," she frowned, "Get along as well as anybody else on this ship does. Do you agree?"  
Jeffery nodded.  
"Good," Wowryk stood, "Then I will ask you to please stop hiding behind potted plants when I enter the room and to see me the next time you ingest something poisonous, instead of a less qualified nurse,"  
With that, she left.  
"Huh," Jeffery grunted in amazement, watching as she left.

Eva Yvonnokoff stood near one wall, a vodka martini (stirred, not shaken and to hell with James Bond said) held in one graceful hand. Her hair was in its standard bun and her every-present data padd was clipped to her belt. She watched, curious as Crewman Shwaluk wandered by, minus his pants.  
"Crewman!" she called, "You haff strong urges of exhibitionism? Call my show tomorrow…we do study on sex disorders Vednesdays,"  
"It's my pants," Shwaluk slurred drunkenly, "They just fell off!"  
"Jas, I am sure," Yvonnokoff said, struggling to be heard over the music "Gibson? Are you here? Can you help you friend?"  
"Steven kicked Gibson out," Stafford advised Yvonnokoff as he approached her, "Something about having 'Married Vonna', I think. You're not marrying your subordinates without telling me, are you?"  
"No," Yvonnakoff said crisply, "Und you, Keptain? Iz ziz obsession vith my married life a reflection of ze lonliness in your own?"  
"Dating is overrated," Stafford said dryly, "But listen, I want to talk to you about Yanick,"  
"Vhy?"  
"Well," Stafford looked around, then lowered his voice, "Look, Doc, keep this quiet, but I have reason to believe she might have been…persuaded by somebody. Forcibly…persuaded."  
"You zink somebody raped her?" Yvonnokoff's eyebrows rose, "Doubtful!"  
"Persuaded, not penetrated!' Stafford snapped, yanking the martini out of Yvonnokoff's hand and setting it on a nearby table, "She's not behaving like herself, and I think it has something to do with-"  
"Hi everybody!" Trish's amplified voice broke through the crowd as the music faded, "Welcome to the 'Bloody Good-Bye!' party!"  
"Too late!" Stafford curse. He looked down at his hand, where a fresh drink had appeared. "What the hell?"  
Shrugging, he took a sip as he started forcing his way through the crowd towards Yanick.

Jall bit his lip as Stafford moved away, then went back to the bar to get another triple drink. He knew what he was dong was risky, but hopefully it would yield positive results…

"I'm so glad you all could come!" Yanick giggle, her eyes wide and just a little crazy, "We've been split apart, scattered and scrambled around, but we came through! We're still one crew! We made it!  
She had to stop for several seconds as several crewmembers started a round of loud applause. (Several more started booing and hissing, but we'll ignore them for now.)  
"But now a treasured member of our group has left," Yanick said, her wide eyes suddenly looking very sad, "Master has left us! I mean, Matthew has left us. So I think it's only fitting to mark his departure with a suitable ceremony!"  
She turned to one of the holographic busboys that had been clearing tables.  
"BRING THE GOAT!"

"What is she doing?" Wowryk asked, frowning.  
"Looks like she's going to re-enact a few scenes from the Old Testament," Fifebee said, eyes wide.  
"What's going to happen to the goat?" Sylvia asked, looking back and forth between Wowryk and Fifebee, "Is she going to hurt the goat?"

"She's got to be KIDDING me!" Stafford gasped as a goat (he didn't know if it was holographic or not) was led out onto the raised platform in front of the DJ booth. The goat bayed moronically as Yanick rummaged around in a nearby box, coming out with a wicked looking knife.  
He threw back the last of his drink, threw the glass away and redoubled his efforts to get through the crowd. Across the room he could see Jeffery sitting at a corner table, oblivious to what was happening. T'Parief was paying attention, but he didn't seem to be doing much about it. If anything, he looked fascinated.  
He saw a flash as Yanick raised the knife. He was still 10 feet away!  
8 feet…  
5 feet…

The partying crewmembers watched in a dumbstruck horror as Yanick brought the knife down. Bright blood sprayed, most of it hitting Stafford as he leapt at Yanick.  
He grabbed the knife from her, fingers slipping on the bloody instrument as Yanick, still giggling, collapsed to the deck.

Wowryk was up on the stage in a flash, holding a medical tricorder over Yanick as she lay on the deck, a goofy smile still on her face. Stafford sat at the edge of the platform, the still slick knife in one hand, the seat of his uniform damp where blood had seeped in. Before long Yvonnokoff had joined them, offering her analysis. T'Parief had joined them and was waiting by Stafford for the prognosis.  
"I zink she needs long-term psyciatric care," Yvonnokoff said, "I could devote show to-"  
"Enough with your foolish pandering," Wowryk cut her off. She snapped her tricorder shut and turned to Stafford, "She has some neurochemical imbalances in her brain. I don't think it's serious, but she'll need to rest. I'm taking her to Sickbay."  
"Thanks, Doc," Stafford sighed.  
"You might be interested to know it was a holographic goat," T'Parief said to Stafford. He knelt briefly at Yanick's side, then moved away so the med-techs could carry her away. There was a burst of applause as the news that Yanick was OK spread through the crowd.  
"Really?" Stafford asked once the noise had subsided, still looking slightly inebriated.  
"Yes. It did not squeal the way a live goat would,"  
Stafford chose to ignore that comment.  
"Sylvia?" he called.  
"Yes?" the voice came from the omni-present computer speakers, rather than Sylvia's holographic body (which was at the other end of the room).  
"Could you remove the goat, please?"  
"Of course,"  
The body and the sprayed blood vanished immediately, though Stafford's butt was still damp.  
"And have a new pair of pants for me in the back room," he added.  
He looked at T'Parief.  
"C'mon," he said, gesturing.

They sat at the table where Jeffery was staring at the wall.  
"You two really weren't very helpful there!" he accused.  
"Huh?" Jeffery looked up, "What did I miss?"  
"Just a crewmember going slightly nuts and killing livestock," Stafford said.  
Jeffery looked at T'Parief.  
"It wasn't me," T'Parief stated.  
"No, he didn't do it," Stafford said, "But you didn't do anything to prevent it, either! And you!" he looked at Jeffery, "You were just sitting here!"  
"It's a party," Jeffery shrugged.  
"I thought it was part of the show," T'Parief added.  
Stafford stared at both of them, then shook his head.  
"Maybe you're not ready for this," he said softly, "Maybe the fact that I even have to wonder whether your ready for a position of such responsibility should have told me from the start this wasn't going to work,"  
"Hey hey," Jeffery said, looking slightly indignant, "We know what we're doin' as well as ye do!"  
"That's why you're over here pouting about God knows what instead of keeping an eye on the crew?" Stafford asked.  
"Well…" Jeffery trailed off, "Noel and I had a little chat,"  
"Tell me about it later," Stafford said. He shrugged and took a sip of his drink, "I really didn't want to do it, but I don't think I have a choice. I owe it to the crew. I need to call Admiral Tunney and at least get another candidate for the position. We're going to need to replace one of you anyway if you get it,"  
Jeffery and T'Parief looked back, seemingly uncomfortable.  
"So that's that," Stafford said, standing up and finishing his drink, "Enjoy the rest of the party,"  
He paused, looked at the glass in his hand.  
"Where did that come from? I'm positive I finished it…" he wandered off.  
"He's lecturing us about responsibility?" Jeffery muttered darkly, after Stafford was out of range.

An hour or so after Yanick's goat sacrifice, Jall was sitting at a table with Sylvia and Fifebee. Fido was curled up on Fifebee's lap, she'd found him clamped onto the head of a passed-out crewman.  
Jall was watching Stafford carefully. He'd been continuing to sneak drinks into Stafford's hand for most of the night.  
"I hope you're not planning anything improper, San," Sylvia said primly, "I may not really be his mother, but I still have a few motherly instincts. And when somebody of your…preferences…tries to get somebody drunk…"  
"Don't get your pylons in a twist," Jall said, "I just want a chance to talk to him,"  
"Couldn't you do that while he's sober?" Fifebee asked.  
"I could," Jall said, "But he wouldn't take me seriously. The drunker he is, the better he'll listen. Hold on!"  
His eyes were on Stafford as he downed his current drink, then walked in an unsteady line towards a table and set the empty glass down.  
"OK," Jall said, "He hasn't been talking for the past 15 minutes, he's getting quiet. That means he's ready." He stood, "Wish me luck!"  
He walked over to where Stafford had slumped into a seat.  
"Heya, Captain," he said, trying to sound casual, "How's it goin'?"  
"Meh," Stafford raised one hand, then let it drop, "Whazzup/'  
"Y'know, Captain," Jall said, "We've never really gotten along very well. I know, I know, our personalities clash, maybe we've got some cultural issues, whatever. But the fact of the matter is, I know what I'm doing. I know what's required of a First Officer, I've done it before. I can do it again. And I promise, if you give me a chance at this position you won't regret it."  
Stafford was staring dully back at Jall. His eyes cleared and his mouth turned down.  
"You're only a Lieutenant," he said, sneering and trying to shrug off at least some of the synthohol, "I know Starfleet has let people skip ranks before, but only for exceptional officers. You're not exceptional. You're barely adequate! You've been a pain in my side since day one and you show all the motivation of a spoiled princess!" He leaned across the table and jabbed one finger against Jall's chest, "Unless you magically become a Lt. Cmdr in the next few weeks you don't have a snowball's change in hell!"  
He climbed unsteadily to his feet and walked out the holodeck door.  
Jall took a deep breath. Waited a few moments, then turned to make his own exit.  
"San," Sylvia tried to stop him on his way out, "I'm sorry, why don't-"  
"Forget it," Jall snapped, pushing past her and out the double doors, "It was a stupid idea,"

Jeffery and T'Parief watched with slightly dazed interest as Stafford stormed out of the holodeck, followed shortly after by a very angry looking Jall. They were a little surprised when he pushed his way past Sylvia, he'd always gotten on fairly well with her.  
"Ah wonder what that was about," Jeffery mused.  
"It made Jall angry," T'Parief shrugged, "That is enough for me,"  
"Yeah," Jeffery said, "but Chris is pissed too."  
T'Parief shrugged again.  
"If he is angry with Jall, that is Jall's problem,"  
The sat quietly for a few more minutes.  
"I'm going for the position," they both suddenly said.  
The exchanged surprised looks.  
"I have decided that I am ready to advance my career," T'Parief said, by way of explanation.  
"Yeah?" Jeffery asked, 'Well, Ah've decided that Ah need to take on more ambitious projects, and this is the best way to start!"  
They looked at each other. Jeffery's eyes narrowed. T'Parief flexed his claws.  
"I will win," T'Parief said firmly, rising to his feet.  
"Bring it on!" Jeffery said, banging one fist on the table.  
They stared at each other for several seconds.  
"Shall we start with a drinking contest?" T'Parierf suggested.  
"Yer on!"


	15. Interplay

Star Traks: Silverado

3.15 "Interplay"

Captain's Log: Stardate 58612.4

"We're on course for the Mortello system, where we're supposed to show the flag,"

"Huh?" Jall asked, perking up at his Ops console, "What about me?"  
"He said 'flag'," Yanick repeated.  
"Oh," Jall grunted, turning back to his console.  
Stafford sighed, then continued his log entry.

"Also, the USS Cricket will be rendezvousing with us there to deliver a new potential First Officer. Like life isn't complicated enough!"

"OK, all done," Stafford said, rising to his feet.  
"If you don't mind me saying so," Sylvia commented, "That was a very brief log entry,"  
"I know," Stafford said, his voice low and lacking of energy, "But I've got a mountain of paperwork to do. I'm going to my ready room. Any chance of having something hot and loaded with caffeine waiting for me in the replicator?"  
"Don't forget to flip the coin!" Sylvia reminded him.  
"Aw f…" Stafford swallowed the profanity, "Fudge. Who's dumb-ass idea was that anyway?"  
"Yours," Yanick pointed out.  
"Oy," Stafford shook his head.

Three weeks earlier…

"I'm going to go through the consumables report," Stafford said, heading for his ready room, "T'Parief, you have the-"  
"Hold it!" Jeffery objected, turning away from the bridge Engineering console where he'd been adjusting the control systems, "How come he gets the conn?"  
"Why not?" Stafford said, staring at Jeffery, "It's not like you even want the job,"  
"Neither does he!" Jeffery said.  
Neither of them had mentioned to Stafford yet that they both did, in fact, want the position of second-in-command aboard the ship.  
T'Parief and Jeffery stared coldly at each other.  
"OK," Stafford shrugged, "I guess I can be fair about this. I'll pick a number between one and ten-"  
"How do they know you will tell the truth about the number you picked after they guess?" Fifebee asked.  
Stafford's mouth tightened.  
"What about the sacred honor of a Starfleet officer?" Stafford asked.  
Jall and Yanick started snickering.  
"OK, fine," Stafford rolled his eyes, "How about padd, phaser, latinum brick?"  
"Against him?" Jeffery said, looking at T'Parief's clawed hands, "Ah don't think so!"  
"Eeny-meeny-miny-moe?" Yanick spoke up.  
"Spin the bottle?" Jall suggested.  
"Battle to the death?"  
"Ugh," Stafford shook his head, walking to the replicator at the front of the bridge. He tapped the panel, then withdrew the object that had appeared on the tray.  
"We'll flip for it,"

Now…

"What a dumb idea that was," Stafford sighed, "I haven't been able to leave the bridge for the past three weeks without tossing the damned thing.  
He pulled the coin, a 21st Century Canadian toonie, out of his pocket and flipped it in the air.  
"Heads," T'Parief immediately called.  
Stafford looked at the coin balanced on his arm.  
"Tails," he announced, then tapped his comm-badge, "Stafford to Jeffery. Your toss. Get up here,"  
"Yippee!" Jeffery replied.  
T'Parief rumbled with displeasure.  
"Hey," Stafford crossed his arms, "You had your chance! If you'd just taken the position instead of holding back you could have saved us a lot of trouble,"  
Unfortunately, by the time Stafford had noticed that his two Lieutenant Commanders were suddenly competing for the First Officer position they had both turned down, he'd already sent a request to Tunney for another candidate for the position. So now he had a new candidate on the way AND T'Parief and Jeffery had suddenly decided they wanted the position. Suddenly Stafford had gone from zero potential First Officers to 3.  
"Captain, we're being approached by the USS Cricket," Jall reported from Operations.  
"Oh good," Stafford said dryly, "That must be the new would-be First Officer. The one that I called Tunney to ask for. The one that Tunney gave me such a hard time over because Noonan quit right after we left Starbase 45,"  
At his station, T'Parief bit his lip.  
The Cricket was a Nova-class ship. Small and fast. She'd been sent to rendezvous with Silverado, and had made the trip out from the inner Federation worlds far faster than Silverado could have.  
"I'll be in the transporter room," Stafford said, pulling out his toonie and flipping. T'Parief called 'tails', just for the heck of it, and lost second time. He cursed quietly as Stafford disappeared into the aft turbolift.  
Several moments later, Jeffery stepped out of the forward turbolift.  
"Top o' the mornin', all!" he said happily, walking straight for the command chair and settling himself comfortably in, "Report!"  
"We're orbiting a boring, round planet," Jall said.  
"There's another ship beside us!" Yanick spoke up.  
"I feel I've just dropped 5 IQ points," Fifebee added from the rear of the bridge.

Stafford leaned against the turbolift as he waited to be taken to the Transporter Room.  
"Bith to Stafford," chimed the comm..  
"Yes?" Stafford asked wearily.  
"Uh, about my duty shift next week," Bith sounded hesitant, "I'm booked for overnight shifts, but I'm supposed to be on evenings for the next month,"  
"Ugh," Stafford groaned, "Can't you take this up with Jeffery?"  
"He referred me to you, sir," Bith replied.  
"Take it up with T'Parief," Stafford said, closing the channel.  
The past several weeks had been an administration headache. Suddenly all the little gripes, complaints and whining sessions that had been going to Noonan were being brought to him. It's not that he didn't care, Stafford reflected, it was just that after listening to such inane whining constantly he'd become numbed to it.  
"Pye to Stafford,"  
"WHAT?" Stafford asked.  
"Uh, I wanna put Crewman Shwaluk on report. He put Antedian fire-wasps in my bed,"  
"Put venomous snakes in his!" Stafford snapped, cutting the channel. OK, maybe he didn't really care.  
The turbolift doors opened. Stepping out, Stafford tapped his comm.-badge.  
"Sylvia? Could you please redirect all these annoying comms to Jeffery and T'Parief?"  
"Shirking your duties, dear?" Sylvia asked, sounding amused.  
"Nooo," Stafford said slowly, "But if they want to be First Officer, they can start dealing with First Officer type stuff!"  
"But Chris," Sylvia chided, "This is a great chance for you to get to know your crew a bit better! Make personal connections!"  
"There's a breaking point, Sylvia,"  
"How about I redirect the comms for now," Sylvia said, "But we'll book a focus group for you and some random crewmembers for later,"  
"Fine!" Stafford snapped, "Whatever! Now I gotta go meet the new guy, Sylvia,"  
"Have fun,"  
With a click, the comm went silent.  
"Blissful silence," Stafford sighed, resting his forehead against the corridor padding next to the transporter room door. Bracing himself, he entered.  
"DIE, HUMAN PINKSKIN!" Pysternzyks was screaming.  
"Aw, crap," Stafford groaned. He rushed through the doors to see three officers in the room. One, a tall, athletic, black male, was holding back his Andorian Transporter Chief. Ensign Pysternzyks was shouting and clawing at a green-skinned Watreadian male. The Watreadian was cowering against the wall, whimpering.  
"What the hell is going on?" Stafford demanded, moving between the Andorian and the Watreadian.  
"Yo, dog," the black man spoke up, "This blue cracka was totally beatin' on dis Bhuddah here,"  
Stafford blinked.  
"What?" he asked.  
"Dis dude," the man started speaking, but the Watreadian cut him off.  
"I can't understand a word he says either!" he said, sounding very nervous, "The Universal Translator doesn't make heads or tales out of it!"  
"What up, yo?" the black man asked.  
"Uh, right," Stafford blinked again. He patted Pysternzyks on the shoulder, "Why don't you go visit Ensign Pye. I think he has a job for you,"  
"As you say," Pysternzyks said, bowing slightly. He turned and headed for the door, growling at the Watreadian on his way out.  
"Call me if you need anybody vivisected," he called back.  
"Welcome aboard," Stafford said flatly to the Watreadian, "Who are you?"  
"I'm Lieutenant Commander Fleebun," the Watreadian said, "It's, uh, a pleasure to be here,"  
"Thanks," Stafford said, shaking Fleebun's hand, inwardly wincing at the clammy, almost slimy feel. Watreadians were an amphibious race. The pale green skin, the protruding foreheads and the gill slits weren't a big deal, but that skin texture…ick! Brought a whole new literal meaning to the phrase 'cold fish'.  
"Sup homes!," the black man said. His grip was firm as he pumped Stafford's arm, "I be J-Tizzle, check out my bling; two gold and a black.  
"Um," Stafford's brain felt like it was going to melt, "What?"  
"His name is Lt. Commander Johnson," Fleebun said, "I managed to get that much from the Cricket's captain.  
"Uh, OK," Stafford gave Johnson a weak grin, "Pleasure to meet you,"  
"Dang, yo," Johnson said, looking around, "dis a fine ass ship ya'all got here!"  
"Uh," Stafford discreetly positioned himself in front of the 'Use at Own Risk' sign, "Welcome aboard,"  
"Word!" Johnson exclaimed, holding up one hand with index and pinky fingers extended.  
"Um," Stafford turned to Fleebun, "What happened with Pysterzyks?"  
"Such hostility," Fleebun said sadly, "I sensed from him that his aura was in flux and wished only to comfort the poor soul,"  
"He gave him a slick squeeze!" Johnson exclaimed.  
"Squeeze?" Stafford frowned, "Oh! A hug?"  
Fleebun nodded.  
"Oy," Stafford shook his head, "Didn't they teach you at the Academy not to hug Andorians?"  
"We Watreadians believe in a wholesome, caring approach to life," Fleebun said.  
"Boy are you on the wrong ship," Stafford muttered, "By the way, why are there two of you? I only asked for one candidate!'  
"Yo, Da Man told me dat ya'll be frontin' so they sent me in ta be an extra set of hands," Johnson said.  
"Which man?" Stafford asked, "Why did he need more hands in our fronts?" Stafford frowned, "You're not…like Lt. Jall, are you?"  
"He means that Tunney sent both of us," Fleebun said, "I sensed that the Admiral suspected one of us would turn the assignment down,"  
"Really," Stafford rolled his eyes.  
"Win!" Johnson exclaimed happily.  
Stafford ushered the two of them out the door and in the direction of their quarters.  
"Stafford to Bridge," he said quietly.  
"Jeffery here," Jeffery responded, "How's it hanging?"  
"Tell the Cricket not to leave the neighborhood," Stafford sighed.

Captain's Log, Supplemental.

"It's official. Tunney still hates us. I ask for one – ONE – possible candidate for the position of First Officer and he sends me two. I had a chance to look over their records while they were getting settled, and there's nothing obviously wrong with them. Served on several starships, moved up through the ranks, etc. etc."  
"The problem is that one of them is a creepy, wimpy little pushover and the other…well. Commander Johnson…well. I'm sure he's a fine officer. We just can't understand a word he's saying!"  
"I've called a meeting, so the rest of the crew can meet our new candidates."  
"Tunney, what have we done to deserve this?"

"Hello everybody," Fleebun said, standing at the front of the conference lounge. His rubbery hands were pressed together and he had a friendly, peaceful look on his face, "I'm Lieutenant Commander Fleebun. If selected, it will be my greatest pleasure to serve as your leader under our august Captain,"  
Yanick and Jall immediately brought their hands to their mouths, in a desperate attempt to stifle the rising giggles.  
"Ahhh!" Fleebun grinned widely, "Good humor! I love it! Please, everybody, a round of applause!"  
Jeffery and T'Parief looked at each other uneasily. Yanick started clapping, with Fifebee and Wowryk reluctantly joining in.  
"Now, I would like to invite you all to join me in a visualization exercise," Fleebun took a deep breath.  
"Uh, thanks," Stafford said, cutting him off, "But let's introduce the other newbie first,"  
Johnson stood and grinned widely.  
"WORD UP YO!" he said loudly, gesturing with his arms, "J-TIZZLE IN DA HOUSE!"  
Everybody stared.  
"Um, hi!" Yanick waved.  
"Yo," Johnson replied.  
"You will both need to come to Sickbay to submit to the standard physicals," Wowryk said crisply.  
"Dayum girl!" Johnson exclaimed, "You fine! You can make me turn my head and cough any day!"  
Wowryk gave a delicate little frown.  
"I'm not sure if I should hurt you for that or not," she admitted.  
"Anyway," Stafford said, "Our four candidates are going to spend the next couple of weeks taking turns handing difference aspects of the First Officer's duties. T'Parief will start with bridge duty, Jeffery has crew reports, Fleebun has crew relations and Johnson will be taking care of the administrative duties. Any questions?"  
There were none.  
"OK," Stafford took a deep breath, "Let's start out. And may God have mercy on us,"  
"Amen," Wowryk said dreamily.

Jall and Yanick were riding the turbolift down to Deck 12 for dinner after coming off their shifts. Yanick was humming quietly to herself, trying to image if the rumors about men like Johnson were true. Jall wasn't. He already knew it was a 50/50 shot. No, Jall's thoughts were on other topics. Like how the hell Stafford could be considering either of the new recruits as contenders for the position that he wouldn't even give Jall a chance at.  
He said as much to Yanick.  
"Well," Yanick shrugged, "If you ask me, Stafford isn't very happy about either of them either. And I know he's not happy about Jeffery or T'Parief,"  
"Really?" Jall asked, perking up, "Why not? He wanted to give T'Parief the job to begin with!"  
"Haven't you been paying attention?" Yanick asked.  
"I've been trying to avoid talking to that arrogant wind-bag altogether," Jall grunted.  
"You better not mean my boyfriend!" Yanick said.  
"Er, of course not," Jall said, "But what was I supposed to pay attention to?"  
"The whole mess! Stafford's pissed at Pari cuz he turned the job down," Yanick said. The turbolift doors opened and the two of them started down the corridor, "So did Jeffery. Now they've suddenly decided they want it!"  
"So what?" Jall shrugged, "I've changed my mind on stuff before."  
"Silly," Yanick giggled, "Think of it this way: If somebody turned you down for a date, then suddenly turned around and asked you out, what would you do?"  
"Tell him to go f**k himself," Jall said thoughtfully, "So you're saying that Stafford is scared that Jeffery and T'Parief aren't dedicated enough for the job,"  
"Yup!" Yanick said, "It's silly, of course. Once Pari sets his mind on something, you can't change it. Like last night, when he wanted me to-"  
"LA-LA-LA-LA!" Jall said loudly, fingers in his ears, "I don't want to know!"  
"You sicko," Yanick crossed her arms, "I was going to say 'make fish-gut soup'!"  
"Whatever," Jall led Yanick into Platterheads, shaking his head, "The four of them might be dolts, but Stafford doesn't have much choice. He's gotta pick one of them,"

Deep in the computer core, Sylvia was watching very, very carefully. She'd turned over most of the computer functions to automatic systems, devoting about 10 percent of her attention to ensuring that everything was running as it should. The remainder of her attention wasn't snoozing, as she'd been claiming, but was instead focused on the five candidates for First Officer. Stafford might think that there were only four candidates, but Sylvia felt otherwise.  
Chris, dear as he was, really didn't comprehend the importance of the decision he was trying to make. Sylvia was very sure of that. He hadn't had to make this kind of choice before. When Silverado had launched, his crew had been picked for him by Admiral Grant. Noonan had been the ideal choice. His administration and interpersonal skills, his calm demeanor and his dedication to his job had been a perfect counterbalance to Stafford's inexperience and easily excited personality. Now, with Noonan gone, Stafford was floundering.  
On any other ship, the post of First Officer was important to the safety and well-being of the crew. Sylvia however, had herself to think of as well. She needed a First Officer that understood her importance to the ship, would be willing to accept her input and able to balance out Stafford's shortcomings.  
Jeffery was pretty much out in her books. She agreed with Stafford: for now, Jeffery belonged in Engineering, overseeing the ship's systems. Simon was a sweety but he and Stafford would probably end up in some stupid pissing contest over who was the better commander.  
Fleebun was likewise out of the running as far as Sylvia was concerned. The man had all the personality of an isolinear chip and would probably still be trying to sweet-talk the hostile aliens when they blew Silverado to pieces.  
Of Stafford's two remaining candidates, Sylvia was unsure. T'Parief would balance Stafford fairly well, though she was a little concerned that he would prove too docile; too respectful of Stafford's authority. He would treat her right though, of that she was sure.  
Johnson was a bit of a mystery. The Universal Translater was stumped, but using her vast resources and not-so-vast experience she'd come to a vague understanding of what the black officer was talking about, though since nobody had asked her for that information she didn't feel obliged to provide it. Far better to see if everybody else was adaptable enough to come to an understanding. Besides, the expressions on everybody's faces when Johnson spoke were very entertaining. Johnson was, from what she could see, very competent. He'd already taken the initiative of processing several administrative reports and had done a very good job.  
Sylvia, however, felt there was somebody else on board that would be a very good fit to the role. Somebody who had been overlooked. Fortunately, she had her own avenues of opportunity to explore and her own plans to set into motion. Now she just had to wait

"I'll have the Faboo Fingers and Fries, please," Jall said, speaking to the Guinanco waitress.  
"I'll have the Salad of Sensuality, please," Yanick requested.  
"Of course," the waitress bowed, "And remember: Honesty is the best policy!"  
They frowned at the rather lame advice, watching as the waitress moved away.  
"Must be a new employee," Jall shrugged.  
"Yeah," Yanick agreed, "I hear that Guinanco orientation class is a killer,"  
"They need to start teaching self-defense," Jall said.  
They made small-talk for several moments, waiting for their food to arrive. Finally, it did. Just as Jall was going to take his first bite, the comm beeped.  
"Sylvia to Lieutenant Jall,"  
"I'm about to eat, Sylvia!" Jall said.  
"I'm sorry, San," Sylvia's voice didn't sound all that apologetic, "But there's a message coming in for you from Starbase 45,"  
"Great," Jall said, "I have a mailbox, right?"  
"Yes, but-"  
"And there's room in it, right?"  
"Yes but-"  
"Well," Jall said, spearing a chicken finger with his fork, "As the blond said to postal worker: 'Just feel free to shove it in my slot',"  
"Watch your mouth, Lieutenant Commander, or I'll wash it out with soap!"  
"Yeah, whatever," Jall grumbled. He tapped his comm-badge, cutting off the channel. He'd eaten two chicken fingers and was about to squirt ketchup all over his fries when he noticed Yanick staring at him, mouth agape.  
"What?" Jall said, "I wasn't that rude to her!"  
"Did you hear what she said?" Yanick asked.  
"Yeah, I have a message," Jall shrugged, "Big deal. Probably somebody I dumped trying to get back together with me. Fat chance. Now eat your salad, we have a holodeck reservation in half an hour, remember? Shopping at the West Edmonton Mall!"  
"But she called you Lieu-" Yanick started.  
"Less talk, more eat," Jall said, pointing his fork at Yanick's plate.

Several hours later, he returned to his quarters, exhausted. Some people might wonder just what the hell the point was in going shopping in the holodeck, especially if everything you bought vanished when you exited. Of course, they could have instructed the holodeck to replicate what they bought, thus allowing them to keep it, but that wasn't the point. Shopping on the holodeck was practice. A dry run. Preparation for their next stop at a real planet with a real mall. Plus, the West Ed Mall was more of an experience then a shopping mall. He'd especially enjoyed the Ambercrombie & Finch models he's programmed into the waterpark. Of course, they'd programmed the holodeck to display the mall at its peak.  
He settled in front of his desk terminal ready to check his calendar for the night to be sure he didn't have any hook-ups scheduled before he went to bed. Nope, all clear. Now he could just shower and take a nice, long-  
"You have one new message," the terminal informed him.  
"Huh," he stretched, "That's right. Wonder what this is about."  
He tapped the icon to play the message.  
Two minutes later, he was running out of his quarters.

BE-DEEEP  
"Hmmmm?"  
BE-DEEEP  
"What?" Stafford groaned. He pulled himself up from his couch, where he'd fallen asleep watching old Futurama cartoons. He couldn't figure out who it was, but the robot really reminded him of somebody.  
BE-DEEEP  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Stafford walked to the door, trying to straighten his rumpled uniform and hoping his breath wouldn't kill his visitor. The doors hissed open.  
"Hey, Captain," Jall said, giving a small wave.  
Stafford took a moment to marshal his good manners.  
"Yes, Lieutenant?" he asked, "Is there a reason why you're at my door right before bed?" He shuddered. "Please tell me it's something official,"  
"Yeah, read this and weep, um," Jall swallowed. Polite, friendly and professional, he reminded himself.  
"Captain," he said, holding out a padd, "I'd like to respectfully submit myself as a candidate for the position of First Officer,"  
"You can't" Stafford said tiredly, not taking the padd, "You're only a Lieutenant!"  
"Not anymore," Jall thrust the padd into Stafford's hands, gave him a nervous grin then walked quickly down the corridor.  
With a growing sense of dread, Stafford stepped back into his quarters and thumbed the activation button.  
"To Lieutenant Jall, USS Silverado, currently operating out of Starbase 45," a pretty brunette woman was looking out from the display, a calm, professional expression on her face, "Greetings. I'm Grace Hanshaw, attaché to the Starfleet Judge Advocate General. It's my pleasure to inform you that your appeal, filed Stardate 56102.3, has been processed. It is furthermore my pleasure to inform you that the Board of Inquiry has found that your demotion from the rank of Commander and First Officer of the USS Sutherland for 'Behavior Unbecoming an Officer' was indeed processed for improper reasons. Starfleet offers apologies."  
At this point, Hanshaw's face took on an expression of professional sympathy.  
"Regrettably," she said, "The Board also found that the original orders promoting you to the rank of Commander and position of First Officer were unconfirmed and did not come through standard channels. Furthermore, you may be interested to know that the investigation regarding the destruction of the USS Rossburn, the vessel on which you served prior to serving on the Sutherland has been re-opened and attached to a similar case involving irregularities in the destruction of the USS Banshee."  
"To cut to the chase, we are not able to restore you to the rank of Commander. The Board of Inquiry has ruled instead to restore your original rank, prior to these above mentioned incidents. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Jall,"  
The message ended.  
Stafford collapsed back down on his couch.  
"This just keeps getting better and better," he sighed.

The next morning, Stafford stormed into Platterhead's like a man on a mission. He quickly spotted his quarry, grabbed a plate from Patsy Horton's admittedly scrumptious Bolian Breakfast Buffet, piled it high with blue eggs and ham and marched over to the corner table where Yanick was sitting with T'Parief.  
"Lieutenant Commander, Ensign," he nodded politely as he sat down.  
"Er," T'Parief looked uncomfortable, "Won't you join us?"  
"I will. I think you're due on the bridge right now, though,"  
T'Parief frowned.  
"I am quite sure my shift does not start for…" he trailed off, noticing the look in Stafford's eyes.  
"Oh, my," he said, his voice stilted and flat as he tried to take on a worried tone, "I do appear to be late. Excuse me,"  
As he left, Yanick crossed her arms.  
"And what was that for, Mr. High-and-Mighty?" she asked.  
"Did you know?" Stafford demanded, "Did he tell you?"  
"About the boil on his tail?" Yanick asked, blinking her big blue eyes, "No, but I saw it while he was sleeping. The question is how you-"  
"Not T'Parief!" Stafford cut her off, "Jall! Did he tell you he was getting an appeal?"  
"He did say something about a facial the other day…" Yanick said thoughtfully.  
"Ugh," Stafford groaned. He handed Yanick the padd with Jall's message on it, eating his eggs as she watched.  
"Huh," Yanick said, "She doesn't say what he did either-"  
"I don't care what he did!" Stafford said, "I'm more worried about what she's doing now! Giving him back his rank? Does the JAG have any idea how much this messes things up for me?"  
"I don't think they care," Yanick said honestly, cutting off a piece of her pancake and shoving it in her mouth, "And the way you're acting, I don't think I care either,"  
"Me?" Stafford frowned, "What did I do?"  
"What?" Yanick said, "aside from being so biased against a member of your own crew that you refuse to even consider him for a position he really wants, even though your other four choices are a nitwit, two people who have already turned down the job and a guy who doesn't even seem to speak English?"  
"Jall is NOT First Officer material!" Stafford objected, "He's whiney. He's insubordinate. He spends as much time doing his hair in the morning as you do and if he came across a wounded animal he'd probably kill it so he could turn it into a stylish hat!"  
Yanick crossed her arms.  
"You're not even trying to be open minded about this," she accused.  
"No," Stafford admitted hotly, "I'm not!"  
"That's it!" Yanick declared, "You're forcing me to do something I really don't want to do!"  
"What?" Stafford frowned. Then realization stuck and his eyes widened, "No, wait! Trish-"  
"SYLVIA!" Yanick called.  
"Good morning!" Sylvia said, smiling as she materialized in one of the empty seats, "What a beautiful day it is today! Hardly a nebula in sight!"  
"It's too early, Sylvia," Stafford groaned.  
"Nonsense," Sylvia said, leaning forward on her elbows, "Fill me in, Trish,"  
"Couldn't you just examine the sensor logs for this room for the past five minutes?" Stafford cut in.  
"I could," Sylvia said, "But Trish likes it better this way,"  
"Oh, fine then," Stafford grumbled, sitting back in his chair, "Whatever TRISH wants then, cuz we sure don't want to do what TRISH doesn't want to do,"  
"Quiet, you!" Yanick and Sylvia said together.  
"So what's up?" Sylvia asked.  
"Chris is being stubborn," Yanick said.  
"Of course," Sylvia shrugged, "He's always been stubborn,"  
"Runs in the family," Stafford muttered.  
"So this probably has to do with the situation involving our favorite Operations Officer," Sylvia guessed.  
"Ensign Day is my favorite Ops Officer," Stafford said flatly.  
"Well," Sylvia said, "I think if Yvonnokoff were here right now, she'd say that you need to consider things from Jall's point of view before you can really understand his attitude,"  
"Yvonnokoff's not here," Stafford said, "She's broadcasting her morning show,"  
"But I am here," Sylvia said, "And I agree with her. You need to try to understand Jall before you go passing any more judgments on him,"  
"What are you going to do?" Stafford asked sarcastically, "Lock me in a prison cell overnight with a bunch of sex-starved convicts? That sounds like Jall's point of view to me!"  
"Christopher Rico Stafford!" Sylvia snapped, "I will NOT tolerate that kind of bigotry from you young man! You were raised better then that, by God, and if you don't stop discriminating against Jall because of his orientation I'll-"  
"It's not about his orientation!" Stafford cut her off tiredly, "And could you stop channeling Mom for a minute? I thought Jeffery'd fixed that little bug,"  
"And just what is it about then?" Sylvia huffed.  
"His attitude!" Stafford said.  
Yanick and Sylvia waited for him to say more.  
"And that's it, actually," he finished rather lamely.  
"So you agree that he's a skilled officer who just has a bad attitude towards his job?" Sylvia asked.  
"Towards everything," Stafford said warily.  
"OK then," Sylvia said, "This is a start. Now, what we're going to do next is a little role-play,"  
"Sylvia, I need to get to the bridge," Stafford said, starting to rise.  
"No you don't," Sylvia said, "Johnson has the conn. We're still orbiting Mortello. Jeffery is dealing with a personnel dispute, T'Parief is already going over today's paperwork and Fleebun is hosting a 'Social Committee' meeting,"  
"We have a social committee?" Stafford asked.  
"Well, if Fleebun gets his way we will," Sylvia shrugged, "I guess he doesn't know we already have one,"  
"Me!" Yanick said happily.  
"Fine," Stafford groaned, "But let's do this someplace more private."

They'd moved to the Captain's Private Dining Room on Deck 3. The empty room was covered with a layer of dust, having been largely unused for several weeks. There really wasn't much call for a formal dining room when the Captain ate in the mess hall with everybody else and they had about as many high-ranking visitors as the public washrooms in a Klingon fast-food joint.  
"OK," Sylvia said, sitting her holographic self down at the head of the table, "You be you, I'll be Admiral Tunney and Yanick is going to be all your peers,"  
"Why aren't I being Jall if this role play is about him?" Stafford asked.  
"I'm changing the context so it fits you," Sylvia said, "Now go!"  
"Fine," Stafford sighed, "Uh, hi 'Admiral Tunney-"  
"Oops, one sec," Sylvia flickered briefly then re-appeared, this time in the image of Admiral Edward Tunney, "OK, Go ahead,"  
"You wanted to see me, 'Admiral'?" Stafford asked, "Is this about my bad attitude or my various dress code violations?"  
Sylvia/Tunney crossed her arms.  
"If you're not going to be serious about this," she started.  
"OK, OK," Stafford said. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to imagine that he was really standing in Tunney's office, with the Admiral sitting in front of him.  
"You wanted to see me, Admiral?" he asked.  
"Ah yes," Sylvia/Tunney said, "Captain Stafford, as I'm sure you're aware, on Stardate 56451 you engaged in sexual relations with a member of the Senousian government during a reception hosted by the Matrian Council?"  
"Oh yeah," Stafford grinned a little, remembering that evening.  
"Well," Sylvia went on, "As I'm sure you're not doubt aware, such actions constitute 'Conduct Unbecoming an Officer' and-"  
"Whoa, what?" Stafford frowned, "It was her idea! I didn't do anything wrong!"  
"Regardless of who initiated coitus, the fact remains that it happened," Sylvia said, "And I strongly disapprove of your actions,"  
"Oh really," Stafford crossed his arms.  
"Yes," Sylvia said, "As punishment, it's been decided that you will be reduced in rank to Lieutenant and transferred to a different ship. I believe we have an opening coming up for a Science Officer-"  
"Science Officer my ass!" Stafford declared, "I don't know anything about science! I'm on the Engineering command track! You can't demote me just because you disapprove!"  
"Starfleet feels you're talents are better used in the sciences," Sylvia gave a cruelly triumphant smile, "Enjoy your new assignment, Lieutenant!"  
"Ha, ha!" Yanick pointed and laughed, "What a sucker!"  
"You can't do this!" Stafford snapped, "I didn't do anything wrong! I'll fight this, you bastard! I'll appeal! I'll protest! I'll-"  
Sylvia shimmered again, taking on her normal from.  
"I'll…I'll…" Stafford realized he was breathing heavy, "Whoa,"  
"Well," Sylvia said, hands clasped in front of her, "That's not exactly what happened, I had to compress things a little for time's sake. But I think you get the picture. Very nice job getting into the part, by the way."  
Stafford sat down. Hard.  
"I...I…" he stammered.  
"I actually feel a little bad for that guy," he gulped.

Stafford and Yanick exited the aft turbolift onto the bridge. Yanick moved to take her station from Ensign Jones, a grumpy looking girl from the overnight shift.  
"About time," Jones grunted, wandering towards the turbolift.  
"Good morning, Captain," Jall said, turning from his console, "Can I just have a word-"  
"No," Stafford snapped, "you can't. Senior officers, conference room!"  
Within minutes the senior staff, with the exception of Wowryk, had crowded into the conference lounge. With the addition of the two extra First Officer's candidates, the small room was feeling a little crowded.  
"Captain, I-" Jall started.  
"Not now," Stafford cut him off.  
Jall sat back in his chair, glaring.  
"OK, folks, good morning, hope you slept well, blah, blah blah," Stafford said.  
"I found the disharmonic resonance in the port nacelle most soothing," Fleebun said.  
"Dis da…" Johnson's words were lost in a wide yawn.  
"Right," Stafford said, "There's been a bit of a development. You've probably noticed that Mr. Jall has an extra pip on his collar-"  
"No he doesn't," Yanick said, "He has the exact number he's supposed to have-"  
"Trish!" Stafford groaned, "I meant he has more than yesterday!"  
"Ye promoted him?" Jeffery gasped, "Are ye daft?"  
"Yes," T'Parief said, his eyes dark as he turned to Stafford, "Are you 'daft'?"  
"Wasn't my idea," Stafford said, "It's not even a promotion. More like a reverse demotion,"  
"I was promoted," Jall said, "Then demoted two ranks. And now I've got one of them back,"  
Everybody looked confused.  
"I won an appeal," Jall shrugged.  
"Yay!" Yanick clapped her hands.  
"My congratulations," Fleebun bowed.  
"Go, dawg!" Johnson said.  
T'Parief and Jeffery exchanged uneasy glances.  
"Thanks," Jall said, "Look, Captain, now that-"  
"No," Strafford cut him off, leaning forward, "Lieutenant Commander, I can't let you submit an application for the First Officer's position."  
T'Parief and Jeffery sighed with relief.  
"What?" Jall demanded, "Hey, I've got the rank, I've got the skills-"  
"San," Sylvia cut in, "let him finish,"  
"Thanks," Stafford said, "Lieutenant Commander, I hereby invite you to participate in the selection process for Silverado's new First Officer,"  
Jall looked shocked.  
"Really?" he finally asked.  
"As much as I'm going to regret it," Stafford sighed, "Yes. Really."  
"Sweet!" Jall grinned.

Stafford walked out of the conference room, onto the bridge and towards the turbolift.  
"Chris," Jeffery was saying as he followed, "I gotta talk to ye for a minute-"  
"Captain," T'Parief was saying at the same time, "A moment of your time in private, please,"  
"No," Stafford said without turning around. He stepped into the turbolift then turned, blocking either officer from following him in, "I don't want to talk to you two about it,"  
"But he's about as responsible as-" Jeffery started.  
"He has no regard for the dignity of-" T'Parief said.  
"Look, you two," Stafford snapped, then pointed at T'Parief, "Especially you! I practically handed this position to you on a silver platter and you didn't want it! So I don't think either of you have much of a right to question my choices now!"  
He let the doors close, then leaned against the wall padding.  
"I need a vacation," he groaned.  
"Yes, you do," Sylvia chipped in.  
"This is just a big mess, Sylvia," Stafford sighed, "None of this was supposed to happen! We were supposed to be finished the hard part of this season! Er, I mean..."  
"Fighting battles isn't always the hard part, dear," Sylvia said in a sympathetic tone, "Battles and tactics and strategies may be hard to predict, but next to the complexities of humanoid behavior, they're really quite easy,"  
"Sez you," Stafford grunted.  
"Speaking of hard to predict," Sylvia went on, "Where are you going now?"  
"Isn't it obvious?"  
"No," Sylvia replied, "I predicted you would immediately consult with Fifebee following the announcement of Jall's participation."  
"Really?" Stafford raised an eyebrown, "Why Fifebee?"  
"Because she's most likely to be impartial," Sylvia replied at once, "And able to assist you in this decision,"  
"Yeeessss," Stafford said slowly, "But she's been acting weird ever since that upgrade,"  
"Which is why I ask where you're going now," Sylvia said.  
"You wanted hard to predict?" Stafford said tiredly, "I'm about to do something I sure as heck never predicted!"

"I'm really quite busy, Captain," Dr. Noel Wowryk said as she worked on a patient lying on the main bio-bed in Sickbay. On the wall above a console, a recently hung poster exhorted crewmen to avoid self-pleasure.  
"I can see that," Stafford said, eyebrows raised, "By the way, why is Crewman Kreklor lying unconscious on your bio-bed with his pants off?"  
"He had an accident during training," Nurse Kerry piped in, "Don't worry, it's a lot more painful than it looks,"  
"Uh," Stafford turned a little green, "Why is that a good thing?"  
Kerry just smiled.  
"Look, Doc," Stafford said, "I need to have a word with you,"  
"Give me five minutes, please," Wowryk said, not looking up, "I'm almost finished."  
"Right," Stafford winced, "Your office."  
Stafford walked past the small laboratory workstation (the main labs were just down the hall) and into Wowryk's small office. Out one corner windows he could see the ICU area with its single bio-bed positioned under a huge bio-sensor unit. Out the other window was the general treatment area, with several bio-beds lined up against the wall, a food replicator and several comfortable looking chairs for visitors. On Wowryk's desk was a thick book with the word 'Bible' printed on the front.  
Stafford quickly looked around. Nobody was watching.  
Carefully, he picked up the book and started flipping to random pages.  
"Fascinating read, isn't it?" Wowryk asked from behind him several minutes later.  
Stafford jumped, then quickly put the book down.  
"Uh, not to be rude, Doc," Stafford said, "but according to this book, shouldn't you be burning a goat right about now?"  
"There are many interpretations of the Scriptures, Captain," Wowryk said frostily.  
"Oh, good," Stafford sighed, "Cuz that one page about not eating lobster-"  
"Is there a point to this, or did you just come down to insult my beliefs?" Wowryk snapped.  
"No!" Stafford raised his hands, "I mean, yes. Yes there's a point and no I'm not down here to insult you!"  
Wowryk settled herself delicately into her chair.  
"And what is it?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.  
"This whole First Officer thing is a mess!" Stafford groaned, letting his head fall on Wowryk's desk with a thud, "I've got five different people wanting this post now. Five!"  
"I had thought that a starship captain typically picked one person for the post," Wowryk said.  
"I did!" Stafford said, "I picked T'Parief! But the big lug turned it down!"  
"But now he's changed his mind?"  
"Yes!" Stafford said, "And Jeffery wants it now too! But I didn't want him in that post in the first place!" Stafford suddenly cringed back, not sure if mentioning Jeffery was a good idea.  
"I'm not sure that Simon has the emotional stability for the job," Wowryk said thoughtfully, "But it is good that he is showing ambition,"  
Stafford snorted.  
"Emotional stability? On THIS ship?"  
Wowryk simply looked back at him.  
"I don't want Fleebun in the same sector, nevermind the same ship," Stafford said, "And Johnson…well…I just don't know what he's saying. Seems to meshing well with the crew though. He took over the DJ booth at Unbalanced Equations last night."  
"Yes, everybody enjoyed his music," Wowryk's gaze darkened, "Even though it was extremely sexist and referred to women as 'ho's' and 'bitches',"  
"It's just music," Stafford said quickly.  
"Yes," Wowryk agreed, "it is,"  
"And I don't know what to think of Jall now," Stafford sighed, "He's had such a bad attitude for the past two and a half years…but now I'm starting to understand that he might have a valid reason for that," he trailed off as he saw the look on Wowryk's face.  
"Jall is the fifth candidate?" she snarled, rising from her chair, fury building in her eyes.

"You might want to put some ice on it, until the last of the soreness subsides," Kerry was saying to Kreklor.  
"Never speak of this again," Kreklor said for the tenth time.  
"Hit the deck!" Stafford cried, running out of Wowryk's office and diving behind the wall separating the ICU from the laboratory workspace.  
"Code white!" Kerry called immediately ducking behind the bio-bed. She grabbed Kreklor by the shoulder and pulled him to the floor, the big Klingon crying out in pain from the sudden movement.  
They looked fearfully at the door to Wowryk's office.  
Wowryk appeared in the doorway, looking very calm.  
"Captain?" she called, "Please come back here!"  
"Don't go!" Kerry hissed, shaking her head.  
But Stafford rose to his feet and walked carefully into Wowryk's office. Wowryk was already seated behind her desk.  
"As much as I detest Jall's sinful lifestyle," she said without preamble or explanation, "I respect his abilities,"  
Stafford stared at her.  
"Doc," he said, "Are YOU all right?"  
"If you must know," Wowryk said, "My counseling sessions with Dr. Yvonnokoff have been very helpful. And I'll admit I'm a lot less stressed without having an evil alien overload to babysit,"  
"Glad to hear it," Stafford said carefully, "Look. Doc, to come to the point: I want you to help me with the First Officer selection,"  
Wowryk raised an eyebrow.  
"Me?" she repeated, shocked.  
"Normally I'd have Noonan to help with this kind of thing," Stafford said, "But he's gone. Jeffery and T'Parief are candidates, so I can't turn to them. Yanick's biased towards T'Parief, and I think Sylvia's biased towards Jall,"  
"I'm sure that by turning to the wisdom of God I can-" Wowryk started.  
"Nooo," Stafford interrupted, "I'm sorry, Noel, but as much as I respect your religion, I can't let it influence a decision like this,"  
"I disagree," Wowryk said, looking down her nose, "All of the candidates are equally sinful in the eyes of God,"  
Stafford sat quietly.  
"I honestly have no idea how to respond to that," he said, "In any case, I'd like you to work with Fifebee on this. She's impartial, which is what I need, but I want you to help balance out the weird, irrational decisions she's been making lately,"  
"Very well," Wowryk said casually.  
"Great," Stafford sighed in relief, "Glad that's over. Now I need to figure out just how we're going to figure out which candidate is best for the role," he tapped his comm-badge, "Fifebee, could you come down to sick-"  
Fifebee immediately materialized.  
"-bay," Stafford finished, "Nice entrance,"  
He quickly filled her in on the situation.  
"So," Fifebee said, "How do we determine who will best fit the role,"  
"Confession," Wowryk said immediately.  
"Noel," Stafford rubbed his forehead, "I already said-"  
"No, she's right," Fifebee said, "Part of the role of a First Officer is to take point in away team missions, including contact with other cultures. This would be an excellent test of their willingness to honor local customs,"  
Stafford grinned.  
"I knew I wanted you in on this for a reason!" he said, "What else?"

Jall stepped into Platterheads, just ahead of the lunch crowd. Most of the senior staff had become pretty good at that, using their seniority to take off for lunch 5 minutes early. Yanick and T'Parief were already seated near one of the windows, with Fifebee and Wowryk not far off. Fifebee wasn't actually eating, instead she gently stroked Fido's white fur as he sat on her lap. The parasitic head-crab alien's 20th century creator probably never imagined his creation would end up brought into holographic form, and if he did he probably didn't image that hologram cooing gently in the lap of another hologram rather than rampaging through terrified, fleeing prey.  
Wowryk wasn't eating much either. In her case, Jall suspected the nervous, slightly disgusted glances she kept shooting at Fido had something to do with it.  
Jall stepped up to one of the replicators, deciding he didn't really feel like going through the whole waiter/customer routine with one of Patsy Horton's dim-witted waiters. Dialing up a Trill stew he was fond of, he pulled his tray out of the replicator.  
Deciding he didn't really want to eat across from a parasitic head-clamping alien either, Jall surveyed the room. 4 of the tables contained one or more people he'd slept with in the past 6 months…he didn't really feel like sitting with any of them. He didn't really feel like sitting by himself either.  
So he strolled over to Yanick and T'Parief's table, grabbed a chair and made himself comfortable.  
"What do you want?" T'Parief asked, tips of his fangs showing.  
"Lunch," Jall said, digging into his stew.  
"Is there a reason why you must eat here?" T'Parief asked coldly.  
"Pari, don't be a grouch," Yanick said.  
"He does not have to eat with us!" T'Parief said, "Nobody has to eat with us but us! This is becoming tiresome!"  
"I think I can eat where I want," Jall said, pointing at his new rank pip.  
"Ohhh!" Yanick squealed, "That's right! Congratulations! I'm sooo-"  
"Thrilled," T'Parief said flatly, "Yes, I know."  
"Aren't you going to congratulate me, big guy?" Jall asked, giving T'Parief an innocent look.  
"I will not," T'Parief said, "As I have no doubt that you will very soon do something stupid and be reduced to the rank of Lieutenant again,"  
"Or," Jall said, "I'll do something smart and get promoted to Commander," he leaned closer to T'Parief, "And then I'll be in charge of YOU!"  
"Doubtful," T'Parief said scornfully, pushing Jall away none too gently.  
"I dunno Pari," Yanick said, "You might have to get used to the idea of taking orders from San,"  
"I would rather take orders from Johnson," T'Parief grunted.  
"Yeah," Jall said, a dreamy look in his eyes, "me too,"  
"Where is he, anyway?" Yanick asked, "I wanted to have a welcome-aboard lunch for those guys, but they didn't show up!"  
"Fleebun's been doing a segment on crew well-being on The Vonna Show all morning," Jall said, "Haven't heard a thing from Johnson,"

"So, girl," Johnson said, looking coolly at Ensign Bith through half-lidded eyes, "Let's head back to my crib and rock the cradle,"  
"I'm not sure what you just said," Bith sighed, "But you're just so tall…and manly…with such lovely dark skin…and deep brown eyes…"  
Johnson gave her a cool half-smile.  
"Take me, you stud!" Bith cried.  
"Word!" Johnson said, leading the way.

"I'm sure he's working hard to get the First Officer slot," T'Parief said, "Unlike some others,"  
"Hey, I don't see you doing anything," Jall shot back.  
"I would never reveal my battle plan to you!"  
"See, that's why you're not going to get it," Jall said, a hint of condescension in his voice, "All you think about is battle. Ever heard of negotiating? Or diplomacy? Or making fine love to a hot alien to secure a treaty?"  
"He better not have!" Yanick said darkly.  
"You are a hot alien," T'Parief said smoothly, taking Yanick's hand in his and peering deep into her eyes.  
"Ohhhh, nice recovery," Jall muttered.

"Mind if I join ye, ladies?"  
Fifebee looked up at the source of the voice and started. There was no denying it: the owner of the voice was indeed Lieutenant Command Simon Jeffery. But what the hell was he doing, coming to the table where she was sitting with Dr. Wowryk, the woman he was terrified of?  
"Of course, Simon," Wowryk said, gesturing to an empty seat.  
"Did I miss something?" Fifebee asked politely, "I had thought you two had severed your romantic ties,"  
Wowryk and Jeffery suddenly looked uncomfortable.  
"We can still be mates," Jeffery said, "Um, I mean that in the 'friend' meaning, not as in-"  
"Yes, thank you Simon," Wowryk said. She turned to Fifebee, "We're being civil to each other. We're still colleagues, after all,"  
"I see," Fifebee said.  
Jeffery ordered his lunch from the waiter, firmly refusing the offer of inadequacy counseling.  
"So Ah hear Chris asked ye to help out with the officer selection thing," Jeffery said.  
Wowryk and Fifebee exchanged glaces.  
"We cannot speak about that," Fifebee said.  
"And I hope, Simon," Wowryk said, "That you're not trying to use your past relationship with me to get an unfair advantage!"  
"Nay! Never!" Jeffery said quickly, "Ah was just makin' small talk! Conversation! Chewin' the fat!"  
"Fat. How very unhealthy," Wowryk mused.  
"So," Fifebee said brightly, "I'm curious about your humanoid courtship rituals. Now that you are single, have you been having a lot of promiscuous single sex?"  
"Whot?" Jeffery's eyes rose, darting between Fifebee and Wowryk. Wowryk had a dark look in her eyes, but was eyeing Jeffery with carefully disguised curiosity.  
"Nay! Never!" Jeffery cried, "Ah'm not the playin' kind o' man!"  
"I'm sure you'd like to be," Wowryk muttered.  
"Interesting," Fifebee observed, "And-"  
"Ah really gotta go," Jeffery said, jumping to his feet and stumbling towards the door.  
Wowryk looked at Fifebee.  
"That was not suitable dinner conversation," she finally said.  
"It got rid of him, didn't it?" Fifebee asked.  
Wowryk smiled in spite of herself.  
"It did, didn't it?"

Captain's Log, Stardate 58614.5

"I don't know why, but out of all the hundreds of starships in the fleet, I've got the only one that needs to have First Officer tryouts. Whether this is because of something I've done, the tampering of some omnipotent being or because fate just hates us all, I don't have a clue. At this point, I just want ONE First Officer so we can wrap up the last of this bullshit!"  
"Together with Wowryk and Fifebee, we've come up with a way to choose. We're going to have a number of tasks for the five wannabees. Whoever does the best becomes Number One. Quick and simple."  
"I hope."

"OK," Stafford was saying to Lieutenant Sage, "We'll need the holodeck for a couple of days at least, so I want you to triple check that it's in top shape. Yanick's going to co-ordinate with Horton for the catering and-"  
"Keptain Stafford!"  
"Yes, Dr. Vonna?" Stafford turned, "Or is it Counselor Yvonnokoff now? I have a hard time keeping track,"  
"Let us talk of your hostility later," Vonna said, "I haff urgent suggestion. I hear you haff a special competition in mind for ze First Officer candidates?"  
"Right, but it really doesn't concern you!" Stafford said sharply.  
"It eez my job to keep careful track of-"  
"What's your idea?" Stafford interrupted.  
"I vas zinking-"  
"Uh, Captain," Sage asked, "There's a minor anomaly in the power flow. I'm gonna need somebody to authorize a shut down of part of the EPS grid,"  
"Ugh," Stafford groaned, "Look, Counselor, do whatever you think is necessary. Just don't bother me with it!"  
"Jas, Keptain,"

Admiral Edward Tunney yawned as he walked through the corridor's of Starbase 45's residential section. He'd had a full day, overseeing starship assignments, tweaking mission profiles and doing the paperwork to add the USS Belarus, the newest Operation Salvage vessel, to his flag. Now, it was time for a drink.  
"Gadem to Tunney," his comm chirped as Tunney stepped into the turbolift.  
"Gadem," Tunney said, annoyed, "I'm done for the day. Can't it wait?"  
"I don't think so, Admiral. I've been going over the holovision listings-"  
"Great use of your time, Ensign," Tunney said flatly.  
"Sir, AWN just pre-empted tonight's episode of 'Trading Starships' for a special edition of 'The Vonna Show'!"  
"Good for them," Tunney grunted, arriving in the station's commercial section and heading for his favorite sports bar for an evening pint.  
"Bad for us, sir," Gadem said nervously, "I really think you need to take a look,"  
"I think I'm about to," Tunney sighed, hearing the familiar jingle to 'The Vonna Show' through the door of Zorgothaks Pub.  
He stepped inside, where Vonna's face dominated the huge vidscreen normally reserved for sporting events.  
"And velcome to special edition of 'Ze Vonna Show'! I am Vonna, und today I bring special, close look at interpersonal relations! Ve vatch now as 5 contestants compete for coveted position: First Officer of USS Silverado!"  
"Oh no," Tunney said softly.  
The screen shifted to show Stafford standing in front of 5 officers. Three he recognized as Silverado officers; the Chief Engineer, the lizard and the annoying loudmouth. He also recognized Johnson, the man he'd sent to apply for Silverado's vacant First Officer slot and Fleebun, the officer he'd sent on a lark to annoy Stafford. They were standing in the middle of a grassy field, on what must be a holodeck. A small shed of some kind was in the center of the field. The camera panned around, showing several officers sitting in stands, cheering. A blond girl held a sign that read 'Go T'Parief!'.  
"OK, shut up everybody," Stafford called, "I'll be brief. We've got 5 officers who want to be second in command. Some took a while to make up their minds about it," he glared at Jeffery and T'Parief, "others had to do weird legal shit to get here," this time his gaze moved to Jall. "Either way, we're going to narrow these five down to one. You don't really get any say in it, but when I told Yanick we were having a contest she insisted I do something to let you show your support. Anyway, let's get to it,"  
"He doesn't even know he's on quadrant-wide holovision, does he?" the bartender snorted, "Look at the way he's scratching his nose! And he's not even looking at the camera!"  
"Gadem to Tunney," the comm chimed again.  
"What?" Tunney asked, suddenly feeling very, very tired.  
"Sir, I have President Dillon's secretary on subspace for you," Gadem said, "And from what she says, it sounds like he's not very happy,"  
"Fifebee?" Stafford was saying on the sceen, "Take that ridiculous nose ring out. Let's try to have a bit of respectability here, shall we?"  
"Gadem?" Tunney sighed, putting his feet up and getting ready to watch the end of his career.  
"Yes sir?"  
"Put him on hold,"


	16. Choices

Star Traks: Silverado

3.16 "Choices"

Previously, on Silverado, a lot of stuff happened. For example, Crewman Gibson got very drunk, then fed Exlax to Crewman Roscoe's pet monkey, Bosco. Also, Nurse Kerry experimented on Crewman Shwaluk with an electro-stimulation device.  
Of more relevance, Commander Noonan resigned his position, leaving the post of First Officer vacant. Captain Stafford, sure of his choice, offered the position to Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief, who declined. Stuck, Stafford turned to Admiral Tunney, who sent out two candidates: one who was almost impossible to understand and another who is just plain annoying. Suddenly, T'Parief and Jeffery decided they wanted the position and at the last minute, through a handy legal victory, Lieutenant Jall was promoted to Lt Cmdr. and also joined the race.  
Now, with 5 candidates for First Officer, Stafford has turned to Wowryk and Fifebee to help him choose. Together, they devised a competition to help select the winner.  
Unknown to them, forces have gathered to twist their friendly competition into something twisted. Something evil. Something VILE!  
Reality television!

EARTH:

Former Commander Matthew Noonan sat on his couch.  
Somebody sitting on a couch is hardly unusual. People in the 24th Century may not be the boob-tube addicted couch potatoes so common to the late 20th and early 21st Centuries, but they still enjoy a comfortable sofa, a relaxing drink and a snack.  
It was a bit unusual though for somebody to sit on the couch for weeks at a time.  
Noonan had returned to his old home in Montreal. The house was old, but one thing that Montreal had plenty of was carefully preserved old buildings. The hardwood floors had been carefully polished, the windows replaced with more modern, baseball-resistant materials and the slot that legend had it was home to an actual microwave oven now held a replicator.  
Noonan's decision to leave Silverado hadn't come swiftly; he'd known he would leave eventually. It was only a question of when. It wasn't the nature of his species to remain in one place for an extended time, and while two and a half years was a lot shorter than usual, the veritable blink of an eye, the realization that it was no longer time for him to be among his crewmates had hit him like a truck.  
Strangely, it had been Stafford who had brought on the realization. The man may be impossibly young, but he had made a very good point: Noonan couldn't go on hiding who he was from the people around him. He couldn't live the lie.  
And so he'd returned to Earth, to his home. To the empty house he'd kept for over 200 years. Empty ever since his fiancé, Amber, had left him. At least in this universe. In a parallel universe, one where he had chosen to stay closer to Amber rather than exploring deep space, he hadn't been transformed into what he was today. Instead, he and Amber had led a full live, raising children and growing old together. And, eventually, dying.  
Coming back to the empty house, he tried to imagine it full of the laughter of children. Of birthday parties, Christmastimes, graduations and even weddings. He could almost see it.  
But that was another Matt Noonan. One who had died, hundreds of years ago. In both universes.  
He'd lost all awareness of the passing of time. He simply sat on the couch, staring ahead at the viewscreen. Every now and then, the house computer changed the channel, but he barely paid attention to the moving images, the speaking mortals. His attention wandered, his mind drifted. Minutes became hours, hours became days.  
And so it was, weeks later, a layer of dust coating his body, that Matthew Noonan was watching the viewscreen at the same time Admiral Edward Tunney was sitting on a stool in Zorgothaks Pub on Starbase 45.  
Separated from his crew by a few hundred light years, the familiar jingle of 'The Vonna Show' still managed to snag the thread of Noonan's attention.  
He slowly blinked, mind processing what he was seeing on the screen.  
"What have I done?" he finally said.

A LOOOONG WAYS AWAY…

"OK, shut up everybody," Stafford called, standing on a grassy greet field on one of Silverado's holodecks, "I'll be brief. We've got 5 officers who want to be second in command. Some took a while to make up their minds about it," he glared at Jeffery and T'Parief, "others had to do weird legal shit to get here," this time his gaze moved to Jall. "Either way, we're going to narrow these five down to one. You don't really get any say in it, but when I told Yanick we were having a contest she insisted I do something to let you show your support. Anyway, let's get to it,"  
Lieutenant Fifebee stood next to Dr. Wowryk, near the edge of the field, right in front of the bleachers that had been setup for spectators. Surprisingly, they were full. Ensign Yanick was holding a big 'Go T'Parief' sign and whistling loudly, several members of the Engineering staff were cheering for Jeffery and a lesbian couple from Deck 7 were cheering for Jall.  
"Thank goodness we're keeping this private," Wowryk commented as Stafford scratched his nose, then spit a thick wad of phlegm onto the holographic grass.  
"Yes," Fifebee said, noticing that Jall and T'Parief were looking at each other with barely disguised hate, "I have a feeling this could get ugly very quickly.

"Coming to you live from ze USS Silverado, zis is Dr. Vonna," Yvonnokoff said, speaking into a microphone as Crewman Gibson followed her, a holo-cam headset strapped to his shaved head, "In special episode, vere we look at new vay to choose Commander of ship. Velcom to Silverado Idol, only on AWN! Here ve analyze ze psyches of our officers und see vich vun vill be chosen as new First Officer!"  
Gibson pulled the camera off his head and turned it around so it was facing him.  
"Uh, what she means, folks, is that-"  
THWAP!  
Vonna smacked him over the head with her microphone.  
"Zey understook me fine!" she said, "Now come! Ve interview contestants now!"  
They stepped over to where the five officers were waiting to receive their instructions. Stafford was over by the shack, conversing with somebody inside.  
"Lieutenant Commander T'Parief," Vonna said, "You vere offered job. Vhy you not take?"  
T'Parief's eyes narrowed as his gaze moved from Gibson to Vonna.  
"Ignore camera," Vonna prompted.  
"I do not speak to," T'Parief's voice dripped with disdain, "the media,"  
"I'll speak!" Jall said happily, "Hi, I'm Lieutenant Commander San Jall, and I'm sure I'll win. Because," he looked pointedly at Jeffery and T'Parief, "I'm the one that really WANTS the job!"  
"I feel I am best suited," Fleebun eased in front of the camera, his slimy skin gleaming in the sunlight, "As I am the only one here who understands the complexities of humanoid emotional needs! For example, Dr. Vonna, one might think that your drive to share the pain of others on quadrant-wide holovision points to a deep-seated insecurity in your own-"  
"I vill thank you to play ze amateur counselor on your own time!" Vonna snapped, moving over to Jeffery, "Und Lieutenant Command Jeffery, vhat is your thoughts?"  
"Ummm," Jeffery gulped, looking at the camera, "I want to…command?"  
"Jas, und vhat a commanding individual you appear to be," Vonna said dryly to the camera.  
"Nigga, please!" Johnson jumped in, a smirk creasing his ebony features, "I'd rock dat shit better dan any dese here cracka's!"

STARBASE WAYSTATION:

The AWN studio was a hub of activity. At the news desk, Joan Redding was packing up the last of her materials from the evening edition of the news she'd just finished up. Producers, talk show hosts and janitors moved swiftly up and down the hallways. Up in the control booth, two technicians were handling the live feed from Silverado.  
"What the hell was that?" Technician Bakuren asked, wrinkling his high, bald forehead.  
"I don't recognize the language," Technician Ston replied, tapping frantically at his console, "I can't find a translation matrix for it in the database!"  
"Hurry!" Bakuren said, "We only have 5 more seconds delay before…"  
Johnson's voice boomed out over half the quadrant.  
Bakuren and Ston exchanged glances.  
"Well," Bakuran said, shrugging, "Let's just hope that whatever he said, it's not important.

"Nigga, please!" Johnson's face filled the screen in Zorgothaks Pub, "I'd rock dat shit better dan any dese here cracka's!"  
"What?" the bartender frowned.  
" He said," a dark-skinned man at the bar said, "He's going to win,"  
Eyes widening, Tunney's hand shot for his pocket, fished around and pulled out an isolinear data chip. One that was supposed to have gone to the USS Silverado. On the side was stamped the words 'Ebonics Translation Matrix'.  
"Oops," Tunney gulped. He shrugged, looked around, then carefully dropped the chip into the nearest potted plant.

BACK ON SILVERADO:

"OK folks," Stafford said, clapping his hands as he returned to the group of waiting candidates, "We had some trouble with the Emergency Catholic Hologram, but it's up and running now. So if…Gibson, what the f**k are you doing here? And with a camera?"  
"Keptin!" Vonna's eyes widened, and she tapped her microphone frantically, "AWN, go commercial! Cue ze von for ze Klingon Carnage ride at Disneyworld!" she turned to Stafford, "Keptin, ve haff some delay time for bleeping on life transmission, but you really must vatch language!"  
"Transmission?" Stafford's eyebrow arched.  
"Jas!" Vonna said frantically…the commercial would be over soon, "Silverado Idol! Tonight, only on AWN!"  
"This isn't that project of yours I approved without asking what it was, was it?" Stafford groaned.  
"Vell…"  
"Yer BROADCASTING THIS?" Jeffery gulped.  
"OOO!" Jall giggled, "I get to be on holovision! I want to say 'bite me' to my parents!"  
The frown that had been gathering strength on Stafford's face faded.  
"Hmmm," he mused, "Y'know, this is perfect. This is REALLY gonna piss off old Tunney. And right now, that's just what I'm in the mood for!"  
"So ve record?"  
"Yes," Stafford said, a demonic grin growing on his face, "Ve record,"

"The first event," Stafford said, pacing slowly in front of the contestants "Is a test of cultural tolerance, understanding and honesty. Dr. Wowryk?"  
Wowryk walked quickly from the sidelines.  
"Within," she gestured to the shack, "Is the Emergency Catholic Hologram. He is ready to hear your sins. You will all go to Confession and beg the Lord's forgiveness for your many, many," Wowryk had to take another breath before she could finish speaking, "Many, many, many sins,"  
"Uh, I'm not Catholic," Jeffery said timidly.  
"I'm not even human," T'Parief added.  
"And I'm gay!" Jall put in, "Aren't I supposed to be burning for eternity?"  
"It's a test of cultural understanding," Wowryk said.  
"Catholic? Girl!" Johnson crossed his arms, "I tried to be Catholic, but dey all kicked me out when I told da priest he had some nice bling on and asked for a second cup of dat cheap-ass wine!"  
Wowryk took a deep breath and crossed herself.  
"Cultural understanding," Stafford said firmly, "Is what Starfleet is about!"  
"Very well," T'Parief squared his shoulders and took several steps towards the confessional. Right before entering, he turned.  
"Is killing a sin according to Catholicism?" he asked.  
Stafford looked at Wowryk, who nodded.  
"This could take a while," T'Parief advised as he stepped into the confessional.

Some time later, after all five officers had gone, the holographic priest came out of the shack. He looked shaken, as though he'd been deeply disturbed.  
"OK," Stafford said, rubbing his hands together, "What's the scoop?"  
"My son," the priest said, "I cannot break the Seal of Confession! Such a thing would damn my soul to the-"  
"Sylvia, override the hologram, OK?"  
"Yes, Chris," Sylvia answered. The holographic priest flickered for a moment, then stepped towards Jall.  
"This one is a liar," the priest said.  
Jall looked like he'd been slapped.  
"What?" he said, "I poured my soul out in there!"  
"Nobody could do the kind of things you described," the priest said, "It is physically impossible." He moved down the line to Jeffery.  
"This one," he said, looking Jeffery in the eye, "Showed honesty and repentance,"  
"Thanks," Jeffery said, "Ah think,"  
"This one," the priest passed T'Parief, "Honestly, I lost count of his slayings after the first 15 minutes." He moved past Fleebun, "This one attempted to solicit Confession from me," he stopped at Johnson.  
"And I am not sure what this one was confessing to," the priest said, "But apparently he feels remorse for weeding his garden,"  
Stafford, Wowryk and Fifebee conferred for a moment.  
"So round one goes to….Simon Jeffery!" Stafford announced.

"Hmph," the bartender of Zorgothaks Pub said, wiping a glass, "Dunno if it was worth changing the channel from the SpikeBall game to this,"  
"Leave it on," Tunney said, finishing is beer, "And bring me another. And another. And a few more after that…"

"Well?" Stafford asked Vonna. He'd tried calling her 'Yvonnokoff', but she'd advised him that she needed to stay in her holovision persona for the duration of the broadcast.  
"How are we doing?" he asked.  
"Vell," Vonna tapped her padd, "Ratings vere low, until ze nature of show was announced. Zen zey jumped up. But ve lost some after that. Right now, commercial for 'Dillon's Starfleet Suites' is running. Vhat is next task?"  
"Uh," Stafford checked his own padd, "They need to negotiate with Nurse Kerry for Crewman Shwaluk's freedom,"  
Vonna frowned.  
"Zat sounds boring," she said.  
"Just wait," Stafford sighed.

"I don't know if I can do this," Kerry said nervously as they waited for the commercial to end.  
"Of course you can," Wowryk said, "From my understanding, you do this all the time. Sinful though it is."  
"Yeah, but not in front of the half the quadrant!" Kerry wailed.  
"Nobody will know it's you," Wowryk said, making sure Kerry's Catwoman-type leather mask was in place, "Now get out there and flail that man!"  
"Right," Kerry squared her shoulders just as the 'Recording' light lit on Gibson's holo-camera.  
Kerry stalked over to Shwaluk, her leather Mistress outfit squeaking. With a flourish she unfurled a long whip and snapped it against Shwaluk's back.  
"AHHHHHH!" Shwaluk screamed as Kerry prepared for another strike.  
"This is just sick," Jeffery said, turning a faint shade of green.  
"That's not what you said before," Jall muttered, thinking back to a time when he and Wowryk had been stuck in a temporal quasality loop, leaving Wowryk free to experiment with her wilder side (and Jeffery) with nobody the wiser.  
"I am strangely aroused," T'Parief muttered.  
Me too, Wowryk thought to herself.  
Crewman Shwaluk was strapped to Kerry's St. Andrew's Cross wearing a pair of shorts similar to the ones found in Queen Wowryk's man-enslaving Dreamland. Occasionally, Kerry would snap her whip, electing a scream.  
"On many occasions," Stafford said, wincing as Shwaluk let out a blood-curdling squeal, "Starfleet officers come into situations where the strong (Kerry struck a pose) are oppressing the weak. As bringers of freedom, justice and all that stuff, it's our job to peacefully reconcile those who have their differences."  
"He don't want no help, he likin' dat beatin'!" Johnson said, laughing out loud.  
Shwaluk turned red in the face as the other candidates laughed.  
Stafford crossed his arms.  
"That point aside," he said, "It's your duty to help him out,"  
"Bring it on!" Kerry snapped, her voice very different from the sweet, charming tone she used in Sickbay.  
"You go first," Jall said, pushing Fleebun towards her.  
"I'm really not good with aggressive women!" Fleebun objected.  
"Just think of it as trying to calm down a really angry dog," Jeffery suggested, earning a very nasty glare from Wowryk.  
Kerry's whip snapped out again, wrapping itself around Jeffery's neck. She gave a sharp tug, pulling him to the ground.  
"Bad comparison," Jeffery admitted hastily, trying desperately to breath, "'Twas my bad,"

Tunney had let his head sag down to the bar when the holographic priest had revealed the results of the 'Confess-O-Rama', certain that he'd been getting a call from Starfleet HR in the morning. But he'd jerked himself up when cat-calls and drunken hoots broke out. Looking at the screen, he didn't recognize the Dominatrix lady or the poor sap she had tied up, but he recognized the engineer turning purple as the whip cut off his airflow.  
"That one of your ships?" the bartender asked, his eyes locked on the large image of Kerry's chest on the viewscreen.  
"Yup," Tunney said, reaching for yet another beer, "And I've gotta say, I really don't mind seeing one of them getting strangled right now,"  
"Dunno, they seem to be doing OK to me," the bartender shrugged.  
Tunney looked around. Sure enough, most of the bar patrons were staring at the screen. Tunney was pretty sure they were more interested in Nurse Kerry's bodice than the antics of the Silverado crew, but they were paying rapt attention.

After Kerry released Jeffery, Fleebun continued with his attempt.  
"Good day, M'Lady," he said, giving a fast and nervous bow, "It does appear that your…friend…has suffered something of an accident. May I be of assistance?"  
"Accident?" Kerry sneered, "This wasn't an accident, I tied him up on purpose!"  
"What I mean is," Fleebun tried again, "Surely you don't mean to hold him against his will-"  
"That's still open to debate," Jall muttered.  
"-in such a fashion," Fleebun said, "Why don't we let him go, then we can sit down and discuss your fantastic whip work?"  
"I'll give you something to discuss," Kerry said darkly.

"I really must admit," Fifebee said to Wowryk as they watched from a small table that had been setup for the 'judges', "She is quite striking in that outfit. Striking being the key word here."  
They watched as Kerry's whip struck out again, this time smashing the fastening on Fleebun's pants. The fishy officer's trousers dropped to the grass. He squawked in surprise, reaching down to grab then, only to have one of Kerry's boots give him a gentle push, just hard enough to send him topping over.  
"NEXT!" Kerry bellowed.  
"Her treatment of men is…interesting," Wowryk said, one eyebrow raised, "I approve,"  
"It is not very Catholic, Doctor," Fifebee said, reaching down to pick up Fido.  
"No," Wowryk agreed, watching as Jeffery approached Kerry for his turn, "But as I am learning, to paraphrase a great officer, 'Catholicism is the beginning of wisdom, not the end',"

"Ye can't do this to him," Jeffery was telling Kerry, "It's wrong,"  
"Really?" Kerry asked, looking only moderately interesting, "And who's going to stop me?"  
"Ah am!" Jeffery said, putting up his dukes. (Meaning he was preparing for fisticuffs…getting ready to rumble, etc.)  
"Oh geez," Stafford sighed quietly, covering his face with one hand.  
"You mean to fight me, little man?" Kerry said, disdainfully.  
"I think he just wants to be the next one tied up," Fifebee called, grinning.  
"Ah mean it!" Jeffery said, positioning himself between Kerry and Shwaluk's welt-ridden back, "Ye can't just-"  
THWACK!

"Ohhh!" the pub goers were laughing and pointing at the screen, the guy on the stool next to Tunney slapping his hand on the bar as he laughed, "I bet he never saw that one coming!"  
Tunney had watched as the engineer bravely stood up to the leather-lady, positioning himself in front of her. Faster than the eye could see, Kerry's leg had snapped up in a roundhouse kick that caught Jeffery neatly under his chin and sent him pitching to the ground.

"Oops," Kerry said, looking down at Jeffery's unconscious form, the hard attitude of a moment ago gone, "I didn't mean to hurt him, sir,"  
"Don't worry about it," Stafford shrugged, "being first officer is a rough job,"  
"Should I take him to Sickbay?" Kerry offered.  
"No, no," Stafford shook his head, gesturing for a pair of crewmen to drag Jeffery out of the way, "Just make sure that when you kick Jall it's twice as hard,"  
"Got it," Kerry's voice hardened as she got back into character.

She never got the chance.  
T'Parief had stormed towards the duo, intent on ending the situation immediately with pure brute strength. What he hadn't realized was that one of the pockets on Kerry's utility belt had a hand phaser in it. As he marched angrily towards her, she calmly pulled it out and stunned him.  
Johnson had decided for a different approach. He approached Kerry calmly and rationally, making no quick movements, his deep brown eyes never leaving hers. Closer and closer he came, his body relaxed, arms down by his side.  
"Any idea what he's got planned?" Stafford asked Wowryk and Fifebee, having joined them where they were watching the action (but maintaining a healthy distance from Fido).  
"Not at all," Wowryk said.  
"Based on an analysis of past actions taken by successful first officers in similar situations-"  
"Similar?" Stafford raised an eyebrow, "This has happened for real?"  
"Not to my knowledge," Fifebee said, "But historically, when confronted by a powerful female opponent, starship captains and first officers have often won by-"  
"Uh oh," Stafford rolled his eyes, "I see where you're going with this,"

"He isn't!" Noonan said to himself, having brushed the dust off his shoulders as he watched, "He is! He's attempting 'The Kirk Maneouver'? Noo…"

Across the quadrant, AWN views watched in anticipation as Johnson came up to Nurse Kerry then took her in his arms, planting a firm kiss on her mouth. For a couple of moments she responded, kissing him back.  
Suddenly, Johnson was down on the ground, gasping in agony as he rolled on the soft grass.

"What the hell?" the bartender asked, "Computer! Instant-Replay, one quarter speed!"  
Tunney and the rest of the pub-goers watched as Johnson and Kerry kissed. Then, the movements blurred even in slow motion, they watched as her knee rose, hitting Johnson right in the groin. They could see every detail as his eyes popped open, the calm, cool expression gone from his face as his jaw dropped. The solidly built officer doubled-over, falling slowly to the ground.

"Yvot!" Vonna said, on hand going to her mouth, "Zat was low blow!"  
"I'll say," Gibson gulped, crossing his legs.  
"Four down," Stafford said, a sympathetic look on his face, "One to go,"  
Fifebee turned to Wowryk.  
"Even you have never inflicted such pain on a man," she commented.  
"It's been close a couple times," Wowryk said. Fifebee noticed she wasn't looking at Johnson, but instead staring at Kerry.  
"What is it?" Fifebee asked.  
"Something's bothering her," Wowryk said, frowning.  
"Please," Fifebee giggled, "She just sacked a guy on quadrant-wide holovision."  
"No," Wowryk said, "She's thinking about something. We've got to talk to her once this is finished."

"OK," Stafford said, looking nervously at the camera, "That's four down. We've had one officer humiliated, two more knocked unconscious and a fourth kicked in the most vulnerable spot known to any humanoid male,"  
"Actually," Jall piped up, "Some species keep their-"  
Stafford smacked him upside the head. Jall grunted, rubbing the sore spot as he glared over at his CO.  
"Sure you want to do this?" Stafford asked, smirking, "I mean, I bet you're not exactly that skilled when it comes to dealing with women!"  
Now Jall crossed his arms and turned to face Stafford.  
"I could get more chicks then you could any day!"  
"You wouldn't know what to do with them!" Stafford shot back.  
"Boys, boys," Vonna quickly jumped into the picture, pushing the two apart, "Zis bickering, fanstastic for ratings, keep up! But later. Ve haff end of today's show in 10 minutes,"  
With a flourish, Jall turned away from Stafford and approached Kerry.  
"OK, sweety," Jall said, one hands on his hip, the other giving a wave, "What do you think you're doing?"  
"Having fun," Kerry said, casually flicking her whip over Shwaluk's back.  
"I'm not going to argue with that," Jall said, "But you're doing it wrong,"  
"Wrong?" Kerry raised an eyebrow, "You question me, worm?"  
"Well, no," Jall shrugged, "But there's always room for improvement, right?"  
"Right," Kerry said warily. Her eyes flickered over to Stafford. Wasn't Jall supposed to be rescuing Shwaluk?  
Stafford just shrugged.  
"See, it's like this," Jall said, "Whipping him is all fun and good, but you've got to see how much he can take. Hit him again, harder."  
Kerry shrugged, then lashed out. The entire audience flinched Shwaluk let out a bellow.  
"No, no!" Jall said, "See, that's not good. You'd wake up half the deck, noise complaints from the neighbors, and the poor guy's gonna end up so hoarse he won't be able to grovelingly apologize for being the disgusting little maggot he is,"  
"Am I the only person who thinks this is sick?" Stafford asked Fifebee and Wowryk.  
"I was enjoying it until Jall entered the picture," Wowryk admitted.  
Jall had pulled a leather strap from Kerry's belt, folded it, then put it between Shwaluk's teeth.  
"Bite down," he advised. Not in a position to argue, Shwaluke complied.  
Jall walked back to Kerry and took the whip.  
"Check this out," he said. He lashed out against Shwaluk, his superior upper body strength making the whip snap. This time, Shwaluk's scream was muffled, more of a grunt.  
"Fantastic," Kerry murmured, watching intently.  
"Oh, and by the way honey," Jall said, suddenly grabbing her wrists and binding them behind her back with the whip, "You lose. I win,"

There was a round of applause in the pub as, on screen, the Mediterranean officer defeated the Dominatrix. In the background, Tunney noted with some satisfaction, Stafford looked beyond surprise and the audience in the stands was cheering loudly.  
"Und so," Vonna said, reappearing, "Ve haff two contestants vith good performance, three vith bad. Who stays? Who goes? Find out tomorrow on special Vonna show edition!"  
Tunney sighed into his beer as the AWN late night news came on.  
"Why so glum?" his neighbor asked him, "That's probably the coolest thing Starfleet's put on holovision in the past six months!"  
"You liked it?" Tunney asked, not looking up.  
"Sure!" the guy laughed, "It had hot chicks. It was sorta funny. I kinda wanna see who wins! Besides, how often you ever see a sexy girl in a Starfleet uniform?"  
"Me too," another pub-goer said, "What do you guys say, back here same time tomorrow night?"  
"You might be surprised," Tunney said to the first speaker. He sighed again, "Don't get your hopes up for tomorrow though. First thing I gotta do in the morning is contact Silverado and order them to never, under any circumstances, pull s**t like this again.  
Before anybody could answer, Tunney stumbled out of the pub.

"And we're off," Gibson said, pulling the holo-cam off his head.  
"And how about that?" Jall said happily, walking towards Stafford, "Was that sweet or what?"  
"What?" Stafford asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"I said," Jall repeated, "Was that-"  
"Yes, I heard what you said," Stafford said mildly, "I was choosing 'or what,"  
"I said 'we're off'," Gibson repeated, "Save the pissing contest for tomorrow night's show,"  
"Respectfully," Jall said, "I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I rescued Shwaluk,"  
"Yeah but," Stafford blinked, "What?"  
"What what?" Jall asked.  
"What did you just say?"  
"I said I did what I was supposed to do," Jall said, crossing his arms and looking annoyed.  
"Before that," Stafford cocked his head.  
"Respectfully?" Jall shrugged.  
"Since when have you done anything respectful?" Stafford asked.  
"Uh, Keptain," Vonna cut in, "Really like ze dialog, but show over for today,"  
"Hey, I'm trying to be professional here," Jall said angrily, "You might want to try doing the same!"  
"Professional?" Stafford shook his head, "You just whipped Shwaluk's ass on quadrant-wide holovision!"  
"It was his back!" Jall shot back.  
"I really don't think either of you can talk about professionalism after that little show," Sylvia said, approaching the two, Fifebee and Wowryk close behind.  
"Uggghhhhh…."  
The argument was interrupted by a groan from nearby. On the grassy field, still lying where the medics had carried him early, Jeffery was pulling himself to his feet.  
"What hit me?" he grunted.  
"Kerry's dainty yet booted foot," Jall quipped pleasantly.  
"I think we all just need to go to bed and have a good night's sleep," Sylvia said, moving her holographic body between Stafford and Jall, "Before one of you says something you'll regret,"  
"Jas," Vonna seconded, "If must say somezing you regret, vait for show tomorrow!"  
"Give it a rest already, Doc," Stafford sighed, "Fine, until tomorrow then."

The next morning…

"Captain on the bridge,"  
Stafford froze as he exited the turbolift, having just finished a routine tour of the Stellar Cartography lab.  
"Huh?" he asked dumbly.  
"Starfleet protocol requires that the presence of a ranking officer be announced," Jall said, swiveling in the command chair to face Stafford.  
"What are you doing in my chair?" Stafford asked crossly.  
"He won the toss," Yanick said from the conn, "We had a really hard time finding a five-sided coin though,"  
"Why didn't you just get a couple of dice?" Stafford asked dryly.  
"That was my suggestion," T'Parief said from tactical.  
"It wouldn't have been the same," Yanick said, shaking her head.  
"Would you like the conn?" Jall asked with exaggerated politeness, "Sir?"  
"No," Stafford said slowly, looking like he'd tasted something sour, "I think I'll just go over to my ready room now,"  
True to his word, he walked slowly towards the door to his ready room. Right before he stepped through, he looked back. Jall was still looking back at him, a polite expression on his face. He gave a cheerful wave. Stafford turned into his ready room and waited for the doors to close.  
He walked over his desk, then sat.  
"What the hell was that?" he asked the empty office.  
"Were you speaking to yourself, or do you actually want an answer?" Sylvia asked, materializing in front of him.  
"Little bit of column A," Stafford shrugged.  
"He wants the job," Sylvia said, "You said he needed to get professional, he's getting professional,"  
"He's getting creepy is what he's getting," Stafford said, "He's Jall. Last time he was respectful towards me he had a bet going he could get me to apologize to him. I trust him about as far as I can throw him,"  
"He did that for an extra week's vacation," Sylvia reminded him, "Wow, that was a long time ago. Back before I was even 'born', so to speak. Ahh, the old days. Y'know, when I'm your age-"  
"Sylvia?"  
"Right, right," Sylvia rolled her eyes, "Look, Chris, give the guy a chance. Who knows? Maybe he could work out!"  
"I don't WANT him as First Officer," Stafford said, "I'd rather have somebody I can depend on, like T'Parief,"  
"Then why did you invite him to apply?"  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Stafford grunted, "I mean, I gotta at least be fair to the guy, right?"  
"Right, you're being really fair," Sylvia cocked her head, "You're letting him apply for a position you have no intention of giving him,"  
"Well, I thought it might be entertaining to watch him try," Stafford said.  
"Right, now you're just being vindictive,"  
"Yes, I am," Stafford said honestly.  
"Well, think about this," Sylvia said, "He's been trying since he heard about the position. He and Jeffery are the only two that did anything close to clever on the show today. What happens if he ends up being the best one for the job?"  
"The universe will end," Stafford said immediately, "And we won't have to worry about it,"

STARBASE 45:

"Good morning, Ghrushetta," Tunney said pleasantly, passing his horned, purple and very irritable secretary on his way to his office, "How's the family?"  
"Multiplying rapidly," Ghrushetta growled.  
"Good stuff, good stuff," Tunney nodded as he stepped into his office.  
"Let's see," he muttered, pulling up his 'To-Do' list, "Meeting with the Tilani Ambassador at 1000 hours. Meeting with station commander at 1100 hours to discuss the rash that keeps spreading…oh, what's this?"  
A reminder message had popped up on his monitor.  
"Give Stafford s**t," Tunney read off his screen. "Huh. Don't know how I let that slip my mind. Best part of the job!"  
He quickly prepared to open a subspace channel to Silverado. While he waited for the communications protocols to complete, he pulled a padd out of his desk.  
"I wonder how many people really keep one of these?" he muttered to himself. The title of the padd was 'Admiral Tunney's S**t List'. He quickly scrolled down the list of ships under his command. The Stallion was racking up an impressive total, and the Vendome was creeping up there too. But Silverado by far had the largest number of tick marks next to her name. Grunting to himself, Tunney added one more.  
"One of these days," he muttered.  
"Thank you for calling Silverado, where you always get service with a smile!" the cheerful Ensign Yanick said, appearing on the screen, "Unless you're a Klinon, in which case I'd be more than happy to connect you to our frowny Chief of Security. If you're calling about our ad in the 'Personals' section of 'Male Humanoid Weekly', I'll connect you to our Operations Officer after I have the chance to-"  
"I said that WASN'T ME!" somebody snapped in the background.  
"Actually," Tunney said, crossing his arms and leaning back, "I want to speak to Captain Stafford,"  
"And who may I ask is calling?" Yanick asked.  
"It's Admiral Tunney," Tunney said, rolling his eyes, "Ensign, we spoke last week!"  
"Oh, I know it's you, silly!" Yanick said, "But I have this script thingy I have to read," she held up a padd.  
"Just connect me to the Captain, please!"  
"Okie!"  
The perky Ensign was replaced by a spinning Starfleet logo, then a view of Stafford's butt appeared on the screen.  
"No, I don't see it," Stafford was saying to somebody, "Yes, I'm stretching as high as I can! No, I don't want you to pick me up with a micro-tractor beam! If there's a bloodstain on my window just have the cleaning crew get rid of it! And remind me to go to the bathroom the next time I have to pop a zit,"  
"Captain," Tunney winced," Would you please turn around and sit down! And not in that order!"  
Stafford jumped, spinning around and falling into his chair.  
"Admiral Tunney!" he exclaimed, "Sir! I had no idea you were on the screen!"  
"Obviously," Tunney said dryly, "Look Stafford, about this show of yours-"  
BEEP!  
Tunney signed as his console chimed, indicating a call coming in from Earth.  
"Hold on," Tunney ordered, "I'm getting another call.  
Before Stafford could protest, Tunney hit the 'Hold' button and Stafford's face was replaced by that of a beautiful blond woman. Her lipstick was perfect, her teeth sparkled like diamonds and her makeup was exquisite. Yet there was a darkness to her pale skin, a sense of thinly veiled savagery.  
"Admiral Tunney," the woman nodded, 'This is Lydia Thompson, the Office of Starfleet Humanoid Resources,"  
"Of course, Miss. Thompson," Tunney nodded. Lovely. Just what he needed, "If you're calling about the, er, inappropriate conduct of some of my officers, I assure you the situation is being taken care of,"  
"I'm sure," Lydia said, smiling pleasantly, "You've always been most efficient in handling Silverado's many indiscretions,"  
"Thanks," Tunney said, suddenly even more concerned. Compliments from Humanoid Resources were rare things indeed.  
"However, I wanted to be sure that this matter is being handled in a way that is in line with the current desires of Humanoid Resources," Thompson went on.  
"I've got Stafford on the other line," Tunney assured her, "I'll see to it there's no continuation of that mockery of Starfleet traditions tonight,"  
"Commendable," Lydia gave a curt nod, sending Tunney's danger sense tingling again, "However, in this case, Humanoid Resources is in favour of allowing the 'show to go on', so to speak,"  
"I…wha?" Tunney's jaw dropped.  
"Admiral, are you aware of the current image Starfleet has with the youth of the Federation?"  
"Considering we just saved them from a Dominion invasion a few years ago, I'd think it's pretty good!" Tunney said, recovering his balance.  
"Oh without a doubt," Lydia said, "You're seen as brave, heroic, selfless beings who put their lives on the line to defend the Federation and its values. The best of the best! Skilled, professional and above all,"  
Thompson trailed off, her expression telling Tunney that she expected him to continue.  
"Valiant?" Tunney guessed.  
"BORING!" Lydia exclaimed, "Nobody wants to join Starfleet as an enlisted crewman anymore! Since the war ended, recruitment has plummeted! They see Starfleet as a place where they can be surrounded by cold, uncaring officers who's sole duty is to see that they're ripped apart by rampaging Jem Hadar, murdered by Changelings or sent on pointless away team missions to die so that more important characters can live! Nobody sees Starfleet as a place to surround themselves with friends, comrades and people who like to have fun! They see it as a place where they can be ordered around and worked to the bone until they're killed by the latest 'Threat of the Week'!"  
"That's just not true!" Tunney objected, "Any ship I've served on, I've made good friends, seen amazing places and learned to better myself and the rest of humanity!"  
"Image," Lydia said haughtily, "Is everything. Did you know that since we started broadcasting 'The Vonna Show', our public opinion polls jumped 5 percent?"  
"I always wondered why we kept that drivel on the air," Tunney grumbled.  
"We keep her on the air," Lydia said pointedly, "Because she'd providing the public with a view of starship life they don't normally get to see! Regular people, like them, with problems, fears and dreams! Not a pack of absolutely perfect professionals that they could never hope to be!"  
"So you want us to let Stafford keep up with his mockery of Starfleet tradition and values?" Tunney asked, shoulders slumping.  
"Last nights broadcast sent our public opinion surveys up another 4 percent," Lydia said in a tone that did not invite argument, "And we're anticipating an increase in recruitment from the 18 to 25-year age group…the people who wrongly felt they could never make it in Starfleet because they weren't 'professional' enough,"  
"Are those the kind of people we even want in Starfleet?" Tunney asked.  
"Admiral," Tunney gave him a skeptical look, "You went through the Academy. They'll become the kind of people we want in Starfleet," she shrugged, "And if not, I'm sure we'll have plenty of room for them in the Explorer Program or on an Operation Salvage ship. You know what to do. Thompson out."  
The screen returned to the Starfleet logo.  
"Wonderful," Tunney sighed. He tapped his console, putting Stafford back on screen.  
"No, Sylvia, I'm not going to tell you if they feel real or not!" Stafford was snapping, "I know you're not Mom, but it's still weird! Why don't you get Jall to tell you? I know homosexuals don't know much about a woman's body, but if he can't tell if a pair of breasts are real or not he needs to have some body parts removed-"  
"There's a reason why I avoid using the hold button," Tunney sighed.  
"Admiral!" Stafford turned deep red, "I…uh…"  
"You know I could put you on report for those kind of remarks," Tunney said mildly.  
"Uh, I meant to say 'haberdasher'-" Stafford said lamely.  
"Forget it," Tunney waved the remark away, "Uh, about last nights show…"  
"Yeah?" Stafford sighed, a resigned look on his face.  
Tunney slouched in his chair, then gritted his teeth.  
"Keep up the good work,"  
He cut the channel.

"Fifebee! Please, wait up!"  
Obediently, Fifebee halted in the corridor. A sudden shock to her holographic force-field informed her that her pursuer had collided with her.  
"I said wait up, not stop!" Noel Wowryk said, rather crossly as she shook her head, trying to clear it from the impact, "Shouldn't you fall over when people run into you?"  
"I chose not to," Fifebee said simply, "How may I assist you?"  
"Are you busy right now?" Wowryk asked.  
"I am attempting to locate Fido," Fifebee said, "He escaped from my quarters last night and attempted to mate with Ensign Bith's cat. I must locate him quickly, that I might add a 'neutered' subroutine to his program."  
"Shouldn't you be on duty?" Wowryk asked.  
"I called in sick," Fifebee shrugged.  
"I need your help," Wowryk said, cutting to the chase.  
"I believe by telling you about my morning plans, I was indicated that yes, I am busy," Fifebee said.  
"Don't get snotty with me," Wowryk snapped, "Look, something's fishy with Kerry and this contest!"  
"We are having a competition to chose which of five candidates will become first officer of a Federation Starship. I do believe the USS Fishy has already gone to warp,"  
"Not only are you making foolish decisions," Wowryk shook her head, "But now your jokes are worse than ever. Look, if Kerry suspects something about one of the contestants, we need to know about so we can disqualify them before they have the chance to win!"  
"Perhaps she learned about Commander Jeffery's 'Orion Mistress' holodeck program and would like pointers?" Fifebee wondered.  
"No, I think it-" Wowryk did a double take, "Simon had an 'Orion Mistress' program? That bastard!"  
"It wasn't for sex," Fifebee informed her.  
"Oh," Wowryk shrugged, "Well, good for him for expanding his horizons, then."

"Remember," Wowryk said as she and Fifebee neared Sickbay, "Kerry usually isn't very open about her personal life. If we're going to get this information from her, we're going to have to be subtle about it."  
"Understood," Fifebee said," I suggest our best bet would be a 'Good Cop/Bad Cop' routine, where you come across as angry and aggressive while I appear to be sympathetic to her situation. This will encourage trust in me,"  
"I like it," Wowryk nodded, "It's devious without being dishonest,"  
The doors to Sickbay hissed open as they approached. As they stepped through the found Nurse Kerry standing behind the nurse's station by the main entrance.  
"Remember," Wowryk whispered, "Subtle,"  
"Doctor," Kerry said, sounding relieved, "I'm glad you're finally here! It's not like you to be late for your shift!"  
"I'll be late when I want to be!" Wowryk said, getting into character, "I'm in charge here!"  
"Hey," Kerry put up her hands in surrender, "No biggie, ma'am."  
"Of course not," Fifebee said soothingly.  
"Look, Nurse," Wowryk said, "We need to talk about something!"  
"Me first," Kerry said, "Look, something's fishy with Lt. Cmdr. Johnson and I want to find out what it is!"  
"No, we need to talk about…" Wowryk trailed off. "What?"  
"When I, ugh," Kerry looked embarrassed, "When I kicked him in the nuts, Johnson said something that just seemed…weird…"  
"He says a lot of things like that," Fifebee said reassuringly, taking Kerry's hand, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it,"  
Kerry gave Fifebee a weird look.  
"Lieutenant," Wowryk rolled her eyes, "You can stop now,"  
"Good," Fifebee straightened and dropped Kerry;s hand, "That was distasteful,"  
"Speak for yourself," Kerry muttered.  
"Johnson says a lot of strange things." Wowryk said.  
"Yes," Fifebee agreed, "Yesterday, he told me 'Daym gurl, u needs to chill da hell out!'. My linguistic database cannot-"  
"He said you need to relax," Kerry interrupted.  
"You can understand him?" Wowryk asked.  
"Sure," Kerry shrugged, "I did my internship in New York. Black men are fantastic to break!"  
Fifebee and Wowryk exchanged glances.  
"That's sinful," Wowryk said.  
"That's disgusting," Fifebee added.  
"That's racist," Sylvia cut in through the intercom.  
"No it isn't!" Kerry objected.  
Silence.  
"Which of us were you arguing with?" Fifebee asked.  
"All of you!" Kerry snapped, "Look, I know how Johnson speaks, and something about it doesn't quite fit!"  
"Maybe he's from Jersey?" Fifebee suggested.  
"You didn't hear what he said," Kerry said.  
"What was that?" Wowryk asked.  
Kerry told them.  
The skeptical looks fell off Wowryk and Fifebee's faces immediately.  
"Let's pull his file," Wowryk said, gesturing to the large console/worktable next to her office.

Jeffery, T'Parief, Jall and Johnson had met in one of the smaller holodecks, a simulation of a rustic cabin running.  
"So," Jeffery said, "Ye ready to admit defeat yet?"  
"Hey," Jall said, crossing his arms, "We're tied!"  
"I will not admit defeat," T'Parief said firmly.  
"I ain't gonna let some craka-ass hold me down!" Johnson said, gesturing wildly with his hands.  
"Yeah!" Jall nodded, "What he said!"  
"Anybody seen Fleebun?" Jeffery asked.  
Negative looks were exchanged.  
"Sylvia," Jeffery asked, "Where's Fleebun? All five of us were supposed to stay down here until tonight!"  
"I can't find him on the ship," Sylvia replied, sounding concerned, "At all!"  
"Where'd he go?" Jall wondered, "Did he chicken out?"  
"Here's a novel idea," Sylvia offered, "Why don't you try comming him?"  
"Jeffery to Fleebun?" Jeffery tapped his comm-badge, giving the ceiling an evil look.  
"This is the USS Cricket," came a female voice, "I'm sorry, but Lt. Cmdr. Fleebun has locked himself in his room and won't come out. He says he doesn't want to work with 'all the angry, scary people' anymore. Good luck. Cricket out."  
Everybody exchanged glances.  
"Well, I guess it's just us four then," Jeffery said.  
"Dude's a pussy, yo," Johnson said, looking like he'd just tasted something unpleasant. (Jall had a similar expression on his face) Johnson walked to the replicator, tapped some buttons and pulled out a steaming cup.  
"What is that?" Jall asked.  
"Keep to yo-self, fool!" Johnson snapped. He took a sip, "Wooooord."

"Anything?" Wowryk asked, looking over Fifebee's shoulder.  
"Actually, yes," Fifebee said, "I've learned that I dislike having you look over my shoulder here just as much as I dislike having the Captain look over my shoulder on the bridge,"  
"What about Johnson?" Kerry asked.  
"Grew up on some colony somewhere…Sector 020. Not all that far from Earth. Educated in New York, then joined the Academy. Blah, Blah, Blah."  
"Any mention of what language he speaks?" Wowryk wondered.  
"It's listed as 'English' in here," Fifebee replied.  
"Right," Kerry snorted, "And Jall speaks Klingon!"  
"Actually, the Lieutenant…excuse me, the Lt. Cmdr. speaks fluent Klingon," Fifebee said, arching an eyebrow.  
"Why would he learn Klingon?" Wowryk asked.  
"In his words," Fifebee said, "'Those ridged guys sure know how to party',"  
"Let's see what we can find in the Academy records," Wowryk suggested.

A few hours later…

"Is my uniform straight? There's no lint on my butt, is there?" Stafford asked, trying to twist his head around to check.  
"Butt is fine!" Vonna said, annoyed.  
"Really?" Stafford cocked his head, "You like it?"  
Vonna took a deep breath.  
"Ve talk about lack of self-esteem later. Now, where is contestants? Ze show must start!"  
"Ze show must start!" Gibson repeated, giggling. He was making a few last-minute adjustments to the holocam he was wearing.  
The holodeck doors opened and Jeffery, Jall, T'Parief and Johnson stepped in.  
"Let's do this!" Jall said, strutting in. Today the holodeck was simply a white room; there wasn't a tree or blade of grass to be found.  
"Bring it!" Johnson said.  
"Ah good," Vonna smiled, "Ve start!"  
"Hey wait," Stafford objected, "Fifebee and Wowryk aren't here yet!"  
"Zey have 5 minutes!" Vonna snapped.

"We shouldn't be in here," Wowryk said, "This is sinful,"  
"And illegal," Fifebee added.  
"Grow some backbone," Kerry hissed.  
The three of them had just finished breaking into Johnson's quarters. The room was still fairly neat, having only been occupied for a couple days, but there were dirty cloths hanging off some of the furniture, a huge pile of gold jewelry on the table and e-magazines filled with naked women scattered on every surface.  
"Looks like a typical man's quarters," Wowryk said with disgust.  
"Not really," Kerry said, "If Shwaluk had nudie magazines in his, I'd whip him raw,"  
"What are we looking for?" Wowryk asked.  
"I have a theory," Kerry said, "I just need something incriminating to prove it…"  
"How about this?" Fifebee asked, picking up a large glass tube half filled with liquid.  
"No," Kerry shook her head.  
"How about some of the disgusting porn?" Wowryk asked, gagging.  
"No," Kerry was going through the pile of stuff on the coffee table.  
"Got it!" she announced.

"Keptain, ve haff to start now," Vonna said, "Cannot vait,"  
"Oh, fine," Stafford sighed. He waited as Gibson activated the holocam, then spoke.

Across the quadrant, households watching AWN were greeted with the image of an Ambassador-class starship flying through space. A deep, masculine voice spoke.

Space! It's big, it's scary and there are so many places to go!  
Here, on the Silverado Idol edition of The Vonna Show, we'll follow the adventures of 5 sworn rivals as they struggle into a position of authority!  
Simon Jeffery, a mild, wimpy Engineer who just broke up with his overbearing girlfriend!  
San Jall, an insubordinate party-boy who plays on only one team!  
Jerome Johnson, a newcomer to the ship, struggling to fit in.  
T'Parief, a security officer with second thoughts  
And Fleebun! A whiny, slimy green 'sensitive' man!  
Who will become First Officer? Find out tonight in our second edition of Silverado Idol!

"I thought you were getting this stuff cancelled?" the bartender asked Tunney as the Admiral settled back onto his stool in Zorgothaks Pub.  
"I tried," Tunney said, "God knows I tried,"  
"They're sure ripping up your Starfleet image, huh?" the bartender asked.  
"Yeah," Tunney grumbled, reaching for his beer, "And 'image is everything',"  
On the screen, Stafford was speaking.  
"Ladies, gentlemen, transgendered beings, gender-neutral beings, beings that reproduce by fission-"  
He looked off camera for a moment, the swallowed.  
"Uh, and everybody else. Welcome back…"

"So," Stafford said, still not looking comfortable in front of the camera, "I'm sorry to say that Lt. Cmdr. Fleebun has dropped out of the running. He, uh, said we were too mean to him. Or something like that. So we're actually down to four candidates: Jeffery, Jall, T'Parief and-"  
"HOLD IT!" Wowryk's crisp voice rang out as she marched into the holodeck, Fifebee and Kerry following close behind.  
"Should I stop recording?" Gibson asked Vonna.  
"No," Vonna replied, "Zis could be juicy,"  
"Uh, what gives?" Stafford was asking, stealing nervous glances at the camera.  
"One of these men," Fifebee paused dramatically, "Is a big liar!"  
"Only if 'I'll call you' is a lie," Jall snickered.

Matthew Noonan still hadn't moved from the previous night. He still sat on his couch, not even moving as a spider crawled up his back.  
"Are you going to tell us who's lying?" Stafford was asking Fifebee, "Or are you just going to stand there?"  
"I was pausing for dramatic effect, Captain," Fifebee replied, "And now you've ruined it!"  
"Look, you've got 10 seconds to tell me what's going on before I let Gibson tinker with your subroutines!"  
"Fat chance," a voice off-camera, probably Gibson, muttered, "I already went to the bathroom today,"  
"What is this galaxy coming to?" he murmured to himself, "Perhaps a closer look at the situation is warranted,"  
He closed his eyes and tried hard to reach out with his mind…

"Johnson's been lying to us from the beginning!" Fifebee announced.  
"She's trippin'!" Johnson objected, looking around nervously, "I ain't been lyin'!"  
"Oh really?" Kerry asked, stepping closer to the ebony-skinned officer, "Then perhaps you'd like to tell me what this is and why it was in your quarters!"  
She held out a tiny baggie, filled with crushed leaves.  
"Uh, that's not mine," Johnson said quickly, "I ain't dirty!"  
"Is that?" Stafford frowned, then crossed his arms, "What is that?"  
"A substance derived from plant matter, used to help one relax," Fifebee said harshly, "One that his people use very frequently!"  
"Whoah," Stafford swallowed, looked at the camera, then swallowed again, "Uh, Fifebee, I really don't think we can stereotype an entire race of humanity as drug users on quadrant-wide holovision,"  
"Dude!" Gibson broke in, "You don't know where I score some of that do ya?"  
Wowryk, Fifebee and Kerry stared at Gibson.  
"Use of a restricted substance such as marijuana aboard a starship is grounds for disciplinary action," T'Parief said smugly, flexing his claws, "Captain, I would like to take this law-breaking vermin into custody,"

"Lieutenant Command Johnson!" Tunney was shouting at the viewscreen in the pub, some of his beer (his 6th already) sloshing as he waved his mug, "What the hell? I sent you out there to whip those people into shape, not get arrested for drug use!"

"Whoah, whoah!" Wowryk called out, stepping between the reptile and Johnson, "Marijuana? What are you talking about?"  
"Isn't that what you've got there?" Jeffery asked.  
"Why would you say that?" Wowryk asked.  
"Well," Jeffery gulped and looked at the ground, "He's black," he muttered.  
"Simon Jeffery, that is a racist stereotype!"  
"Hey man!" Johnson moved right up to Jeffery, "You want a piece of me?"  
"Hey, hey," Stafford moved quickly between the two, "Let's just calm down. Wowryk, what's going on?"  
"Smell this!" Wowryk snapped, pushing the baggie up to Stafford's nose.  
Stafford sniffed.  
"That smells like," he frowned, "Earl Grey? TEA?"  
"Tea!" Wowryk nodded triumphantly, "And not just any tea! FRESH TEA LEAVES!  
"But what does that mean?" Stafford asked.  
"It means he's not 'thug'," Kerry announced, "He's BRITISH!"  
DUN DUN, DUN-DUN-DUN DUUUUUUUUUN!

"What the hell did you do that for?" Technician Ston asked Technician Bakarun as the two of them manned the AWN control booth.  
"I dunno," Bakarun shrugged, taking his hands off the 'Sound Effects' control panel, "It just felt right,"

"British?" Stafford was asking, "But…I mean, he talks-"  
"Like a rapper?" Kerry asked.  
"Well," Stafford shrugged, "I was going to say he talked like the Chris Rock hologram at the Starbase 45 Comedy Club, but whatever fits,"  
Johnson was looking very embarrassed, surrounded on all sides now by Silverado officers.  
"Is this true?" Stafford asked him.  
"Yes, quite true," Johnson sighed.  
There were gasps all around at his crisp, British accent.  
"Why would you lie to us like that?" Ensign Yanick shouted from the stands.  
"Well, my dear," Johnson said, "To tell the truth, I started with the 'gangtsa' talk in high school. I'm afraid joining the Chess Club just wasn't done in my part of town, and I wanted to be 'cool',"  
"Kept it running a little long, huh?" Jall asked.  
"Well, mate," Johnson shrugged, "I found that the ladies were much easier to shag when I used a New York or Caribbean accent,"  
"You did it for sex?" Stafford asked flatly.  
"I like this guy's style!" Jall chirped.  
"Can we talk about this after the camera has been turned off?" Johnson asked politely.  
"No!" Vonna snapped, "Zis is good for ratings!"  
"Ugh," Stafford grunted, "Johnson, I'm sorry. But based on this, I can't consider you for the post of first officer. Honesty, well, we had honesty problems with our last first officer."  
"I quite understand," Johnson sighed, trudging off.

Noonan's eyes snapped open, his attempts at astral travel spoiled by the distracting remark.  
"Yes, I get it, Chris," Noonan said crossly to the holovision, "I kept secrets. But that's no reason to broadcast it to the quadrant!"  
Sighing, he focused again.

As Stafford and Wowryk watched Johnson go, Jall turned to Jeffery and T'Parief.  
"So," Jall said, "Just the three of us again, huh?"  
"Yes," T'Parief said thoughtfully, "Just the three of us,"  
"Ah don't suppose one of ye would like to drop out?" Jeffery asked, "Y'know, make it easier for the rest of us?"  
T'Parief and Jall glared at him.  
"Just checkin'," Jeffery said.

"Uh, OK," Stafford turned back to the camera, "So we're down to three now. Three Silverado officers too. So now we get to try and find out if the new XO is going to be the loyal Security Chief, the long time pal and Chief Engineer or the smart ass Operations Officer. I know which one I don't want sitting in that command chair!"  
"Three guesses," Jall grumbled.  
"So we come to our final contest," Stafford announced, "Sylvia?"  
"Hello boys," Sylvia said. The holodeck shimmered, the blank white walls being replaced with blue skies, green grass, and a solid wall of green shrubbery, "Your final mission, if you choose to accept it, and at this point you'd better, is to work your way through the maze!"  
"Maze?" Jeffery's eyebrows went up.  
Everybody in the holodeck lurched at their viewpoint rose hundreds of feet into the air, giving everyone a bird-eye view. The wall of green was just one side of a huge garden maze, 10 foot high hedges bristling with thorns running as far as the eye can see.  
"Don't do that again," Stafford groaned, holding his stomach as Sylvia returned the holodeck viewpoint to the ground.  
"In the center of the maze," Sylvia went on, "Is a rank pip. The first one to get the pip wins this event. To get through, you're going to need skill, agility, endurance, diplomacy and wit!"  
"Just go," Stafford said, still clutching his stomach.

T'Parief was first into the maze, having shot into action before Stafford's mouth had even closed. Entering the maze, he immediately took a left turn. So far things were pretty uneventful. He slowed to a jog, not wanting to tire himself out.  
As he came around one corner, he found himself facing a stone door. There was no sign of any kind of handle, doorknob or switch. On the door itself though were several carvings. One carving looked like an Ambassador class starship, only heavily damaged. Another carving seemed to be of a Klingon woman, her lips pulled back in a grin as she squeezed a planet between her hands. Yet another had a symbol that T'Parief didn't recognize, though he was sure he'd seen it somewhere.

"Well, this is interesting," Jall muttered to himself, facing an identical stone door. He'd taken a bit longer than T'Parief had, and had chosen to take a right turn instead of a left. He'd come across the door entirely by surprise; he'd been trying to count his footsteps to see how far he'd gone.  
"So it's a puzzle you've got for us, huh?" he muttered, running his hands over the door, "Good thing it's a hologram, this workmanship is just awful! Although stonework is 'in' right now…"  
As he ran his hand over one of the symbols, this one showing an Ambassador-class starship and a Sovereign-class starship separated by a jagged line, the symbol lit up, glowing with a soft, yellow light.  
"YELLOW LIGHTS on GREY STONE?" Jall exclaimed, "EWWWW!"

Jeffery laughed as he approached a third identical door. He'd taken a passage that had veered off the main path shortly after Jall and T'Parief had split up, but he was pretty sure the other two paths would lead to similar doors. Stafford would be too lazy to come up with different puzzles for each of them, besides, that wouldn't really be fair.  
Jeffery barely glanced at the symbols on the door.  
"Ye've spent too much time playin' 21st-Century computer games, buddy," Jeffery chuckled. He'd recognized the nature of the puzzle immediately; the stonework, the style of the carvings, the presence of a puzzle…it just screamed 'Myst'."  
Fortunately, Jeffery had endured many hours of Stafford chattering on endlessly about the damned game, and he knew what to look for.  
The symbols clearly were meant to represent several of Silverado's missions and encounters over the past three years. There was K'Eleese crushing a planet. Next was the symbol of the Matrian Empire. An image of two humanoids, their souls represented as hazy forms hovering over their bodies, probably represented the body switching.  
Jeffery tapped each symbol, starting with their earliest missions and working his way up to the last symbol, 4 crudely-carved humans and one reptile, surrounded by question marks. He was rewarded with a deep rumble as the door slip open.  
"Easy," he laughed, walking through.

"Chris," Sylvia was saying, her holographic form looking over Stafford's shoulder with her arms crossed, "I had no idea you could be so sneaky,"  
"It was Fifebee's idea, actually," Stafford said.  
As Jeffery, Jall and T'Parief explored the holographic maze, Stafford, Wowryk and Fifebee had taken their seats at the small judges table, right in front of the bleachers full of spectators. Three huge holographic screens had appeared in mid air, each one carefully tracking the progress of one of the contestants.  
Jeffery had been running through the next part of the maze for several minutes by the time Jall had figured out the puzzle, doing a victory dance as the door opened.  
T'Parief wasn't faring quite as well. He wasted several minutes looking for a hidden switch or lever that might open the door, ignoring the symbols on the door itself.  
"C'mon Pari!" Yanick cheered from the stands, "Use that big, sexy brain of yours!"  
"Could somebody pass me the popcorn?" Ensign Day requested.  
"Coming right up, sweety," Sylvia replied. A bowl of popcorn materialized on his lap.  
"I wanted butter," Day complained.  
"Ingrate," Sylvia muttered angily. There was another shimmer of holographic sparks and a torrent of butter came crashing down on Day.  
Day sat for a moment, sputtering.  
"Thanks," he finally said.  
Meanwhile, T'Parief had done a quick search of the small area he was in and had located a solid stone statue. Hefting it under one arm, he charged the door. The statue hit like a battering ram, a great crack splitting the door. With a few more well-placed blows the door crumbled.  
T'Parief stepped through and began running down the next section of the maze.

"Greetings, traveler,"  
"Uh, hi," Jeffery waved. He stood at one end of a graceful stone bridge that arced over a river. The water rippled as it flowed, reflecting the dim light coming in from above the maze. Blocking his path was a Vulcan, his bowl-cut hair the standard Vulcan black, his robes a deep shade of blue. A small sign next to the bridge read 'Property of Christopher Stafford,"  
"Can I go across, please?" Jeffery asked.  
"Logically," the Vulcan said, "If you wish for me to offer you safe passage, should you not offer me something in return?"  
"Huh? Jeffery blinked, "Oh, Aye. Ah guess. That's the way these toll bridges work, right?"  
"Indeed," the Vulcan inclined his head.  
"A tricorder?" Jeffery offered, holding his out.  
"I have no need of a tricorder," the Vulcan replied.  
"Well then I'm kinda stumped," Jeffery crossed his arms, "Cuz Ah don't have anything else on me!"  
"Then your situation is not one to be envied," the Vulcan observed.  
Jeffery glared, blowing air through is lips.

Stafford, Fifebee and the spectators all watched the screens with interest as each of the three contestants met their own bridge-guarding Vulcans.  
"I concur with Sylvia," Fifebee said, "Observing their reactions when they believe they are not being observed is indeed sneaky,"  
"It was Wowryk's idea," Stafford said, "And besides, 'Only when a man is hidden does he reveal what he truly is',"  
"That's deep, dude," Gibson commented, having removed his camera now that AWN was focusing on the three contestants, "Is that, like Shakespeare or something?"  
"No," Stafford sighed, "Yeesha. It's from Myst."  
"Myst," Sylvia looked thoughtful, "Isn't that the game that had you in your quarters, cursing and screaming at your computer teminal? By which I mean, you were cursing and screaming at me?"  
"Some of the puzzles in that game were really hard!" Stafford said, a little defensively.  
"Is T'Parief allowed to do that to the Vulcan?" Trish asked from the bleachers. All around her, spectators were grimacing or shielding their eyes.  
"Technically, he can do whatever he wants," Stafford said, shuddering, "But I don't think that was a very good idea,"

"This is impossible!" Jeffery snapped, "Ye don't want twigs, or leaves, or rocks. Ye don't want me tricorder. Ah have nothin' else to offer!"  
"If you eliminate the impossible," the Vulcan said, "Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the answer,"  
Jeffery looked at him for a moment.  
"Yer right,"  
With that, he dove into the river and swam to the other side.

T'Parief's eyes flickered, scanning for threats as he ran through the seemingly endless corridors of the maze. He hadn't seen another fork in the road in quite some time, and was convinced that he was on the final path.  
No sooner did the thought enter his head then the path opened up into a large circular courtyard. Ringing the outer edge were 5 pathways leading in from the maze, between which stone pillars stood sentinel, supporting an open latticework dome of stone. Five crescent-shaped pools circled the courtyard, about halfway between the center and the outer edge, between which cobblestone pathways led to the center.  
In the very center of the courtyard was a thick stone pillar. Atop the pillar was a metal cage, which in which a tiny spot of gold gleamed. The rank pip!  
T'Parief ran to the base of the pillar, somewhat surprised by its size. It was over twice his height; reaching the metal cage on top was impossible. The stone was perfectly smooth and hard as marble…his claws couldn't get enough purchase for him to clime. If it had been narrow he could have tried to shimmy his way up, but the pillar was at least 5 meters in diameter. On the side of the pillar were five solid dots in a horizontal line. Right below the first line of dots was a second line, only this time the fifth dot was an empty ring.  
"Huh. Stafford's got another silly puzzle for us, huh?" Jeffery commented.  
T'Parief whirled.  
"When did you get here?" he hissed.  
"Just now," Jeffery said, "Ah had some trouble with the Vulcan.  
T'Parief noticed that Jeffery's uniforms was soaked and that the shorter man's hair was plastered to his head.  
"You swam?" T'Parief asked.  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded.  
"Fool!" T'Parief snarled, slamming the palm of his hand against his forehead.  
"That's not very nice," Jall's voice added as the slim officer jogged into the courtyard.  
"I was referring to myself," T'Parief said darkly, as if daring Jall to make a comment.  
"No problem," Jall shrugged instead, "Hey, is that relish on your chin?"  
"No," T'Parief said, whipping the green, holographic Vulcan blood off his face.  
"Violence doesn't solve anything," Jall snickered, then looked at Jeffery, "And the wet hair look only works if you're wearing a Speedo,"  
"And how did ye get past the Vulcan?" Jeffery asked.  
"I told him it wasn't logical for him to charge me for crossing the bridge, considering he didn't own it and that it would cost him nothing to get our of my way," Jall said.  
T'Parief and Jeffery exchanged angry glances.  
"Idiot!" they both snapped.  
"So, what's the deal here?" Jall asked cheerfully, "Another one of Stafford's childish puzzles?"  
"So it seems," T'Parief said through clenched teeth.  
Jeffery had started wandering around the courtyard. He knew that if Stafford was taking his ideas from an old computer game that there had to be clues somewhere. Games always had clues, for if the puzzle could not be solved, who would want to play it?  
T'Parief and Jall watched as he circled the pillar. Jeffery, noticing their watching eyes, paused.  
"If yer just goin' to watch until Ah find the answer," he said, annoyed, "Ah'm just gonna stop looking,"  
"Oh, right," Jall cleared his throat, "Sorry,"  
T'Parief, instead, walked up to the pillar.  
"I noticed this marking," he said, pointing at the dots, "I took it to be rank pips, however this is not the rank of a Commander,"  
"Nay," Jeffery shook his head, "Ah don't think there's any rank that has five pips,"  
"Are you two conspiring together now?" Jall shouted from across the courtyard.  
"Ah think we're supposed to," Jeffery said.  
"Come again?"  
Jeffery left the pillar, heading for the outer edge of the courtyard.  
"Help me look for a switch, or a button, or something," he said.  
"Something like this?" Jall called. He pointed to a pillar halfway between two of the entrances. As Jeffery and T'Parief approached, they could see that there was a carving on the pillar, this one of five hands clasped together, like in a friendship circle.  
"We have to hold hands?" T'Parief sneered, "I refuse!"  
Jall ran to another pillar, this one also spaced halfway between two entrances.  
"There's another one over here!" he called, running back to join them.  
"Five dots on the pillar," Jeffery thought, "Ah bet there are five panels like this one,"  
"There were supposed to be five contestants," T'Parief pointed out.  
"So we each push a symbol then, right?" Jall asked.  
"There are only three of us," T'Parief said.  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded, "Cause Fleebun and Johnson were eliminated. Ah bet we only need three of us now,"  
"Looks like Stafford wanted to judge us on teamwork too," Jall mused.  
"Indeed," T'Parief agreed.  
"Er, aye," Jeffery said.

"Damn right I did," Stafford muttered, watching the show. With the three contestants now in the same area, the three huge vidscreens were now showing different angles of the courtyard. Jall, Jeffery and T'Parief were still discussing the clues in a huddle near one of the symbols.  
"So, vill ze three conteztats come to agreement? Vill zey put aside zere physiological distastes for each ozzer und triumph? Vill I get a paper out of ziz? Find out after zeze words from 'Dillon's Supply Depot'!"  
"Commercial," Gibson said as an indicator light on his padd lit up.  
"That's getting very annoying," Wowryk grumbled.

"It looks pretty straight forward to me," Jall said, "We each push one of these symbols and something happens to the pillar."  
"I agree," Jeffery said.  
T'Parief reached out with one hand to the symbol next to them. It immediately light up with a blue glow. As soon as he took his hand away, the glow faded.  
"Ah think you have to hold it down," Jeffery said.  
T'Parief put his hand back up against the symbol.  
"Let's go," Jall said, running towards another symbol.

Jeffery ran to a third symbol. Unlike the other two, he had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. The clue on the pillar was more than just instructions for them to use the symbols, it was a clue as to just how many of them had to hold down the symbols. The first line of dots told them to hold down all the symbols (in this case three, as there were only three people). But the second line said release one symbol!  
"Ye ready?" Jeffery asked, poising his hand over his symbol  
"Yes," T'Parief grumbled.  
"Go for it," Jall called.  
Jeffery took a deep breath and braced himself.  
He tapped the symbol, then took ofF running.

Watching Jeffery, T'Parief had a sudden, instinctive knowledge that something was wrong half a second before Jeffery touched the symbol. It was something in his stance, something in the furtive way he glanced around before reaching out.  
Still, he was caught off guard when Jeffery exploded into a blur of motion, tapping the symbol with one hand, then sprinting for the pillar in the center.  
The second Jeffery's hand left the symbol, the pillar started sinking into the ground with a deep rumble. As it did so, the small metal cage at the top opened.  
"TRAITOR!" T'Parief snarled, digging his claws into the ground as he took off running towards the pillar.  
"What the f**k?" Jall shouted, confused as he too started running.  
But Jeffery had too much of a head start. Jall had barely passed the pools of water halfway to the pillar when Jeffery reached the descended pillar. T'Parief was much closer, closing in on Jeffery as the human reached into the metal cage.  
As his fingers closed over the rank pip, Jeffery vanished in a haze of transporter sparkes as T'Parief lunged, passing through the empty space where Jeffery had been.  
Seconds later, the holographic maze disappeared, revealing the bleachers of spectators and the small judges table.  
"YOU BETRAYED US!" T'Parief snarled, advancing on Jeffery as the smaller man backed towards the judges table, "YOU KNEW WHAT WOULD HAPPEN! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL US!"  
"Well, it's a contest, right?" Jeffery squeaked, still backing away, "The point was to win, right?"  
"That was a pretty low trick!" Jall accused, "We'd trusted you!"  
They suddenly realized they were being watched.  
Stafford, Wowryk and Fifebee sat at the judge's table, looking coldly at Jeffery. Behind them, none of the spectators were cheering. Instead, they all looked on quietly. Nobody needed to spell out what had happened. They'd seen Jeffery bracing himself, seen him running to the pillar before the other two had even realized what was happening.  
Stafford stood.  
"You'll have my decision within 24 hours," he said coolly, then started walking towards the holodeck exit.  
"But," Jeffery protested, still holding the gold rank pip in his hand, "Ye said…"  
"He said," Wowryk said, "That the first person to get the pip would win this event. Nothing more,"  
With that, she and Fifebee followed Stafford out.  
Vonna turned to Gibson, who had once again donned his holocam.  
"Vell," she said, "Zere you haff it. Vun contestant, driven by dreams of victory und glory, has turned his back on his crewmates und struck out alone! Vill it vin him ze coveted position? Tune in next night for special edition of Vonna show, vhen ve announce vinner!"  
Jeffery scowled at the camera, then left.

Stafford sat in the Captain's Mess, staring out at the stars. His chin rested on one hand, the other lay flat against the window ledge.  
"What a mess," he muttered.  
"This didn't really turn out the way you planned, did it?" a voice from behind him spoke.  
"No, it didn't," Stafford sighed, "This was supposed to be an easy choice. Put T'Parief in the first officer slot and carry on as usual. He wasn't supposed to say no. Then yes after Tunney sends a candidate. Excuse me, TWO candidates."  
"And the show?"  
"Should have been fun," Stafford said, "Should have been a way to teach us all that we achieve more when we work together."  
"It seems to have done the opposite," the voice said, "Instead of demonstrating that the three of them achieve great things together, Jeffery has demonstrated that through trickery, one can win."  
"I guess I'm just not clever enough to give character lessons," Stafford said. He turned to find Noonan sitting in a chair, looking back at him.  
"You're a little far from home, aren't you?" Stafford asked.  
Noonan raised one hand. Stafford noticed with interest that it passed right through the table.  
"You could say I am at both homes," Noonan replied with a smile.  
"Uh-huh," Stafford was skeptical, "Seems to me you told me once you'd tried out of body travel when you were kidnapped by the Senousians. Didn't work then, did it?"  
"When injured, my kind often finds that when we heal, our powers increase greatly,"  
"Any particular reason you're here?"  
"Just to tell you that you are on the right track," Noonan said.  
"Oh? How so?"  
"The maze was a brilliant idea. And, by the way, Myst was a fantastic game. I remember playing it on my parent's antique PC as a child,"  
"You were the one that introduced me to it," Stafford grinned.  
"I wanted to give my advice one last time," Noonan said, suddenly changing the topic. Stafford noticed that he was starting to flicker, becoming faint, then snapping back into focus, "Don't ignore what you've just learned. Indeed, I think the entire experience has told you something about the people you chose for the first officer position, however you cannot forget that the face a person wears in public can be different from their true face. Don't forget what you saw in the maze when you make your decision."  
Stafford nodded.  
"I look forward to The Vonna Show tomorrow," Noonan said, "Best of luck."  
"Thanks for dropping by," Stafford gave a half-wave.  
Noonan faded.

Two days later…

"Und vith ze selection of ze new first officer for ze starship Silverado," Vonna said, looking into the camera in her office set, "Ve now return to your regular schedualed program. Today, on Ze Vonna Show, ve look at ze cultural challenges of mixed-species neighborhoods. On ze line ve haff Korag. Koreg is haffing problems vith a neighboring Horta family, who's molton rock feces are causing ze geological structure of his property to become unstable,"  
Gibson sat in the booth, feet up on the console as Vonna nattered on.  
"Things are finally getting back to normally," he sighed, pulling out the small baggie he'd swiped from Johnson.  
He sniffed.  
"Earl Grey? CRAP!"

Back on Starbase 45, Admiral Tunney was on the comm with Lydia Thompson.  
"I hope you're happy," Tunney said, trying to keep his tone diplomatic, "We've just broadcast a Starfleet officer betraying his crew to the entire quadrant,"  
"Our opinion polls did drop slightly after that event," Thompson allowed, "However, they are still higher than they were before. All in all, I think we can consider this little experiment a success,"  
"Should I share that with the Silverado crew?" Tunney asked.  
"I think not, no," Thompson said, "No, I think what's needed of them at the moment is silence and obscurity,"  
Tunney sighed.  
"That's not really something they're good at," he said, "Somehow, they seem to keep popping up where they're least wanted,"  
"I believe the commanders of several other Starbases would agree with you," Thompson said, "Which is why I have something different in mind."  
"Oh?" Tunney perked up.  
"What if I were to tell you," Thompson said, "That at this very moment, plans are being laid out for a long term mission. A mission that is very far away from both Earth AND the public spotlight. And that all somebody, say, and Admiral, would have to do to get a ship assigned to this mission would be to volunteer them?"  
"I'm listening," Tunney said slowly.

Captain Christopher Stafford stepped out of the turbolift, walked calmly to his command chair and sat.  
"Status report, Lt. Commander Johnson?" he asked.  
"We're on course for the Genuri system at Warp 4," Johnson replied, sitting at his console and tapping away, "All systems appear to be, well, your systems don't match the specs I recall for an Ambassador-class ship, but Sylvia assures me they are normal for her,"  
"Good," Stafford nodded.  
The doors at the rear of the bridge hissed open as Silverado's new first officer arrived on the bridge. He stood briefly in the turbolift alcove, taking in a deep breath, as though breathing the recycled air on the bridge for the first time. Smiling, he stepped around the tactical rail, down one step into the lowered forward area of the bridge, then up another as he approached the command area and the twin command chairs. Nobody applauded as he sat in the portside chair, the one that had previously belonged to Commander Noonan.  
"Commander Jall," Stafford said, inclining his head politely.  
"Captain," Jall smiled.  
T'Parief bristled, an involuntary rumble emerging from his throat.  
Stafford took a deep, calming breath.  
"You have the bridge, Commander," he said, very calmly as he stood and walked towards his ready room.  
"Aye sir," Jall smiled as the doors hissed shut, "Ensign Yanick, how are those navigational sensors holding up?"  
"Just fine, Commander," Yanick answered with a grin, putting emphasis on the word 'Commander'.  
A dull thumping became audible, coming from the direction of the ready room. The sound of Stafford slamming his head into the padded wall. Again, and again, and again.  
"Well, now that we've got everything figured out," Jall said, "I think it's about time we got back to work, hmmm?"  
"Aye sir," Yanick said cheerfuly.  
"Aye," replied Fifebee.  
"You bet!" Sylvia said, materializing near the viewscreen.  
"Aye," Johnsaid said from the Operations console.  
T'Parief just growled.  
From the ready room, the sound of Stafford screaming could be faintly heard.  
And Silverado flew on…

End

Well, I hope you all enjoyed Season 3. Season 4 will be posted up when I have the chance. All Silverado seasons, along with a bunch of even better Star Traks series, can be found by googling 'The Star Traks Nexus and Corner Grocery Store'.


End file.
